


Behind the Baseboards

by PhantomLore



Category: The Borrowers - All Media Types, モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100
Genre: Borrower!AU, G/T, Gen, Giant/Tiny, gen - Freeform, no ships, platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 22:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomLore/pseuds/PhantomLore
Summary: Mob has been living in the walls of Reigen’s apartment for almost three years now.  It wasn’t great here, with all the smoke, but it wasn’t all bad.  At least he got to eat every so often.  And Reigen seemed nice enough, not that he’d ever get the chance to meet him personally.Reigen has been noticing things.  Little objects disappearing, or things being just a little out of place.  As the 21st Century’s Greatest Private Investigator, it was up to him to figure out what exactly was going on in his apartment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I got inspired by another fic I read here and it’s VERY SIMILAR to this fic cause. I have like no originality. But hopefully it’s different enough that people like it. So enjoy if you can I guess
> 
> Not Re*mob
> 
> I went back and edited the formatting, I’m still pretty new to this site. Hopefully it looks better.

  The door was pulled closed, and the lock clicked into place. Steps that shook the ground faded down the hallway, away from the apartment. The steps continued down a set of stairs, then another, getting fainter as they went. A vehicle starting up, before pulling away from the complex.

  An abnormally small boy peeked out from behind the leg of the coffee table pressed against the wall. He breathed through his shirt to avoid inhaling the mounds of dust and dirt that was piled up and forgotten behind the furniture. The boy named Mob then stepped out from his hiding place, destined for the couch by the television set.

  His human host was... predictable, to an extent. As most humans are. He would often come home late, very late, with slow, dragging steps, exhaustion evident in every footfall. His first stop was usually the kitchen, in which he wrenched open the fridge, stared at it for a while, before abandoning his search there and open the pantry instead. There was a very high chance then that he would snag an instant noodle packet (or a ramen cup if he was feeling especially low on energy) and set about making that.

  Armed with his meal of choice, he would then retire to the couch, cigarette in hand, switching on the television to whatever appealed to him at the time. Often mediocre movies, particularity those that aged poorly. He would then end up falling asleep there, on the couch, snoring loudly until the sun came up the next day, noodle container laying empty and forgotten on the floor.

  The small boy made his way over to the couch where, sure enough, sat the empty bowl, fork within, with a tiny puddle of broth at the bottom, long since gone cold. Perfect.

  Mob climbed into the bowl, before kneeling down and cupping some of the broth in his hands. He slurped it gratefully, despite the bland flavour, and the stickiness it would surely leave on his palms. There wasn’t quite enough for a full meal, but it was all he could get. Sadly no stray noodles were left behind this time.

  He rose to his feet, and stepped carefully out of the bowl. It would still be a while before Reigen came back to the apartment. Mob glanced towards the kitchen. Maybe there’d be something he could grab there...?

  He’d searched many times before now, and the most he could find in the pantry was some baking ingredients such as flour and sugar, a forgotten measuring cup or two, and a literal mountain of cup noodles. And those were fine, if a little hard to open. To be honest, he was getting tired of the same thing every day. But... he grimaced. Beggars can’t be choosers.

  His current living space was less than ideal. The ever-present stench of cigarette smoke was everywhere, and it had taken mob weeks to get used to it. There was also the constant smell of rotten food, from the containers on the ground, to the herd of beer cans hidden in the corners, to the forgotten vegetables in the drawer of the fridge. And the dust was everywhere.

  But there had been a family of mice that lived here in the walls before Mob had, and the critters had already cleared paths through the insulation for quick, easy travel from room to room. They had promptly left after the smoke had become unbearable. This meant that he didn’t have to carve the tunnels himself, and according to Mob’s mother, that was quite a demanding task. And Mob was not skilled in athletics or in carving tunnels, or much else for that matter. It was worth braving the smoke, even if it was at times overwhelming. He’d take what he could get.

  Mob hummed, thinking. Reigen could be gone for anywhere from several hours to a few days. He wasn’t sure exactly what Reigen’s job was, but he’d mentioned having to do a “stake-out” on the phone once, whatever that was. Mob didn’t really care that much to find out.

  He headed towards the kitchen, at a steady pace. He had plenty of time. He could check the junk drawer, the garbage can, and maybe the bedside dresser. Anything he could use. He’d found a few fishing hooks a while ago and fashioned them together into a pretty functional grappling hook, which he carried with him at all times, hung around his waist. It made getting onto the countertops way easier.

  Mob unhooked the grappling hook from his belt (which was made from an old shoelace) and swung it in a circle behind his head, gathering momentum. He then launched it as high as he could, hoping it would snag on the edge of the countertop. It took him a few tries, but eventually it caught, and Mob pulled himself up the rope, gasping and wheezing from exertion the whole way up. His arms trembled from carrying his weight up the incline, and with great effort, he hauled himself up onto the countertop. He collapsed in a heap, trying to catch his breath. Now it was just a short walk to the junk drawer. He reminded himself that there was no rush, that he could take as long as he needed to.

  Mob rolled himself onto his hands and knees, before pulling himself up, making his way to the drawer a few paces away.  
He pushed it open, before hopping inside.

  There were tons of goodies in here. Rubber bands, thumbtacks, nails, string, old pencil stubs, an eraser, an old matchbox. He had to be careful not to take too much though. Mob picked through the materials, trying to determine which would be the most useful to him. He decided on a rubber band, a nail, and the matchbox. He could only carry so much, after all.

  He used the rubber band to attach the matchbox to his back like a backpack, and dragged the nail behind him to the corner of the counter. Starting a ladder of nails on the wooden side of the countertop sounded like a good idea, but it would have to be pressed right up against the wall so that it wasn’t too noticeable. He’d had one in his old home, and it made it much easier to climb up the incline. The single nail would start as a place to hook the grappling hook, if he jammed it just underneath the lip of the counter.

  Mob kneeled on the flat surface, now right on the corner of the counter. It didn’t quite line up with the wall, and there was a space between the wall and the wood, just large enough for him to squeeze into. A perfect spot to place a grappling anchor.

  Quick steps were heard coming down the hallway. Probably another tenant, but just to be safe he dove towards the safety of the gap between the two surfaces. Pressed tightly against the wall, he hid between old wrappers and crumpled take-out receipts, breath held.

  To his surprise, the door was flung open, and a disheveled Reigen stumbled into the apartment. Mob hadn’t even heard him return. He couldn’t see Reigen from his hiding spot, but he heard him speed-walking around the apartment, stopping frequently to search through piles of junk on the various tabletops.

  He heard an aggravated sigh. “Leave it to me to forget the one folder I need... “ Reigen was muttering, shuffling papers around, flitting from one pile to another. “... living room, by the door, the kitchen...?” Mob heard the steps approach the kitchen threshold. His heart was in his throat. He pressed himself to the wall, intending on keeping as much distance from Reigen as possible, and tried to control his breathing.

  He was stuck. The only way out of his cramped position was out into the open, where he was not planning on going just yet. Not until the threat was gone.  
He heard the steps enter the kitchen, before stuttering to a stop a few steps in front of the counter Mob was wedged behind. There was a pause, in which Reigen reached out towards an open drawer... the junk drawer. Mob had forgotten to close it. He’d forgotten to close the drawer in his haste to get away.

  Mob brought a hand to his mouth. This was bad. Surely he’d be found out now, there was no way Reigen wouldn’t figure it out...

  Reigen closed the drawer quickly, before stepping towards the balcony door, away from Mob’s hiding spot. The boy allowed himself a moment to breathe, still on high alert. Reigen checked the lock on the glass door, before moving to the window on the far wall, checking the lock on that one as well. He turned on the spot, hand on his chin, his brow furrowed in thought. After a few moments, he shook his head and caught sight of a folder on the arm of the couch, grabbing it and leafing through it. Satisfied, he strided past the kitchen and back out the front door. The lock was engaged, and the door handle was shaken to ensure it was assuredly locked. Hurried steps continued until out of earshot.

  Mob let out a breath, trembling in every limb. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. Stepping out from behind the wood, he made it back to the baseboard-made-door hidden behind the coffee table. Not exactly a successful outing, but he did get a little something to eat. That would have to be enough. At least he wasn’t seen. That would have really been a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I’ve been writing this for two days just take it


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reigen finds something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t expect frequent updates. I do what I want
> 
> And by that I mean I have no idea how long writing the next chapter will take.

  Reigen hadn’t become such a good private investigator by chance. The job requires someone with mounds of patience, an eye for detail, and a clever mind to patch those details into some sort of solution.

  So when Reigen had come back to his apartment minutes after leaving in the morning, it did not escape his notice that something was off. The drawer in which he kept his spare change, among other things, was open. He knew that it was not open when he had left his home less than a half hour ago.

  But why that drawer? And _just_ that drawer? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to look into, I don’t know, _any other drawer_ besides that one? The few yen coins that were in there hadn’t been taken either. He gave his apartment a quick once-over, before deciding that this was not worth being late over. All the doors and windows were locked, and it didn’t seem like anything was missing, which was good enough for him at the moment. Whatever. He had a case to deal with.

  And with that, Reigen left the apartment once again, decidedly _not_ thinking about whatever mystery was going on in his house. He could figure it out when he returned.

-

  Reigen was having trouble focusing on his work. He couldn’t keep his mind away from what he had seen at his apartment. Had really nothing been taken?

  No, he had to stay focused. He was in the middle of yet another stake out, and if he lost track of the man he was tracking... well. He’d have to come back the next day and waste more hours waiting in his car, most likely. And Reigen would rather get this over with. He steeled himself for another few hours of nothing, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. Another long, long day of waiting. God, he hated this job.

  
-

  6:30pm couldn’t come soon enough. Not a minute after his target returned to his house for the night, Reigen started up his car and headed back to his living space. He hadn’t gone to his office at all today, so there was no need to go back there and close up shop for the night. All he had to do was get home, grab something quick to eat, and maybe a beer, and just marinate on the couch until he lost consciousness. He thought about how he would be having instant ramen, again, and entertained the thought that he might go out for dinner instead. His musings were immediately slammed to a halt when he thought about the contents of his wallet (or lack thereof). Instant ramen it was then. Maybe he could add something to spice it up.

  He sighed, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. He couldn’t let his thoughts wander too far or he’d drive himself off the road. Reigen was only a few streets away from the apartment now, not that it mattered too much. He resolutely began to drive just a tad over the speed limit, eager to get home. God, he needed a cigarette. He felt like it had been ages, but really it couldn’t have been that long ago. He really needed to cut back. He shouldn’t be smoking more than a pack a day, or at all for that matter. Today he was going on three. Then again, he always smoked more on days he did stakeouts. Which was very often. Maybe he shouldn’t have a cigarette after all.

  He was pulled from his thoughts when he arrived at the complex. He climbed the stairs at a steady pace. It was only seven now, but Reigen was ready for bed. It’s amazing how much idling in a car all day doing nothing drained you.  
He opened his front door, debating whether to put in the effort to make something to eat, or just skip it all together. His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the offending drawer from this morning. Reigen stopped in front of it for the second time that day, hands on his hips. He opened the drawer, looking again at the many items that he had yet to discard. What was missing? Was anything missing?

  He tried going through a mental checklist of sorts, but it wasn’t like any of the things in there were important. Except...

  His matchbox. He always kept a matchbox in here just in case his lighter decided to die on him. He only had one refillable lighter that he always kept in his suit’s breast pocket, and every now and then he’d forget to refill it, grabbing a match as a quick substitute. It wasn’t very smart to only have a single lighter, but. It was reliable most of the time.

  There was a noticeable absence of a matchbox in here. So something had been taken. Unless he had moved it...?

  He headed towards his bedroom to check in his bedside table. Sure enough, it wasn’t there either. Out of all of the things that could have been taken...

  It was actually a limited edition matchbox, he’d gotten it as a gift from a friend. Something about the company going out of business? It was really nicely made, and Reigen always felt guilty whenever he took a match from it. Even if it was just a matchbox.

  Maybe it had fallen behind a desk or something. He really doubted it though. And moving heavy furniture didn’t sound like something he felt like doing after a long day like today. He’d check behind a few things, preferably the lighter furniture. Not the dresser or his desk or anything.

  He moved piles of paper and other discarded semi-important items off of the coffee table, cause maybe he had used the matchbox and just put it there instead of where it normally went. Again, unlikely. But he really liked that matchbox.

  He scooted the coffee table out from against the wall, finding yet more papers and knick-knacks that had fallen behind it. He brushed a few of them aside, kicking up dust. And then...

  A door. A little white wooden door, flush with the baseboard, complete with a tiny button handle on it. It was hardly noticeable, if not for the bright blue button that stuck out like a sore thumb. Reigen blinked. Then he let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head. The person who lived here before him must have had a sense of humour incompatible with his own. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was inside, but he knew if he didn’t open it, it wouldn’t leave his mind alone.

  Reigen leaned over the coffee table, reaching towards the strange little door. He grabbed the button with a thumb and forefinger, gently trying to force it open. He was mildly surprised to find it locked. Not welded shut, but locked. It rattled slightly when he shook the handle.

  This was weird. Even for him. Maybe he could find a way to open it...? He went over to the kitchen again, searching through the same drawer that had caused all this fuss in the first place. What could he use to open a tiny door in the baseboard?

  Nothing much jumped out at him. He did see some duct tape in here though. If he couldn’t open the door, he was going to make sure nothing would come out of it either. His mind thought about sentient cockroaches, with little ties around their necks, coming out at night and snacking on all of the rotten food laid out on the floor, their legs all sticky from noodle broth, and thought about how Reigen could have been eating out of a bowl that had once held a cockroach...

  He shuddered. No thanks. He grabbed the duct tape and marched back over to the tiny door. It only took one strip of duct tape to cover the entirety of the door. Satisfied, he moved the coffee table back into place. He was not going to think about it. He was not going to think about it.

  That said, he decided to skip out on dinner. He’d lost his appetite. Stupid cockroaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Going on completely useless tangents for no reason? It’s more likely than you’d think.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting that was bound to happen eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was gonna be a Mob chapter. It was for a bit. Then I thought “hm. Reigen tho.”
> 
> Next one will probably be a Mob chapter.
> 
> ALSO I actually proofreaded this one so yay for that. Enjoy nerds

  Mob pressed his ear against the living room door, trying to make out any signs of movement. It was the middle of the night, and he was thinking about going back out to find something else to eat. He heard what he thought could have been snoring from the bedroom, but Reigen didn’t sleep in his room that often. He’d fall asleep on the couch more often than not. But the evidence seemed to imply that he was currently in his bedroom.

  Mob’s stomach growled, and he pressed a hand to it. He really needed something to eat. He hadn’t eaten in over 12 hours, and he was well aware of that. The constant ache in his stomach had been growing steadily, until it was nigh unbearable. He had to make sure it was safe to go out, though. And there was the matter of the door.

  Reigen had done something to the door. That he was sure of. No light filtered through the frame around the door, leaving Mob in near darkness. That wasn’t the problem, though. The problem was he couldn’t open the door.

  Had Reigen painted over the baseboard or something? Or maybe placed some flat thing in front of it? Mob tried pushing against the door again, this time with more insistence. The door budged the tiniest little bit, and made a short, sticky noise, like something unpeeling itself from the wall.

  Tape. It was probably tape. No way he was getting through that, not without making a whole lot of noise. Mob turned towards the tunnel leading to Reigen’s room, where the other entrance was. There was another way out that way, but that door squealed a bit every time it was opened. And it was right underneath Reigen’s bed, well within earshot of the sleeping figure in the bedroom.

  Mob’s stomach growled a second time, and he sighed, exasperated. He had to grab something, anything. He could only hope that Reigen had left a little something left over from his supper. If not he could maybe eat some raw instant rice from the bag in the pantry. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. It was hard to get down, even when he wasn’t dehydrated.

  Mob called on his psychic powers, raising a hand, shaky from lack of energy. He hadn’t used them in quite a while, but his command was infallible. Blues and purples swirled around his palm, before the misty aura squeezed through the gap under the door, before it wrapped itself around the obstacle. Yep, it was tape alright. He could feel the texture as if he was feeling it with his own hands, the tiny threads hidden underneath the silver plastic. Heavy duty tape.

  He flexed a hand, slowly tearing the tape away from the wall with his powers. A ridiculously loud noise, like peeling Velcro, accompanied the motion, and Mob stopped his pulling at the tape. Maybe he was better off using the other door.

  He padded down the tunnel, away from the tape that was blocking his easiest exit. Either door was risky, as Reigen could hear something and decide to investigate, and he was already suspicious of something going on in his house.

  Back when Mob had first moved in, he had made the bedroom door first, before Mob had had any sort of carving experience. For this reason, it dragged across the carpet when it was opened, and was accompanied by the sound of squeaking hinges. But maybe he’d get lucky and Reigen wouldn’t hear it. He really needed to eat something, and he was willing to take that chance. Anything to sate the gnawing in his stomach.

  Mob held his breath, closed his eyes, and unlocked the deadbolt to the bedroom door.

-

  Reigen opened his eyes blearily, before squeezing them shut again. Why was he awake. He knew it was late, as he couldn’t hear much traffic outside, or any noise at all. He laid there for a few seconds, hoping that he’d feel tired enough to fall back asleep. No such luck. Glancing over to the clock on his nightstand, he read the digital numbers that were presented to him: 2:13.  
Reigen didn’t do much following this revelation. He continued staring at the clock, before turning his head away from it. Maybe if he _really tried_ , he could force himself to...

  There was a noise. A faint noise, something like a squeak. His eyes shot open. _A mouse_ , Reigen’s mind supplied for him. Well, he was awake now. Might as well deal with it. He waited, motionless in his bed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the little trespasser. He heard some quiet shuffling underneath his bed. Reigen fought to keep still, suddenly terrified. What if it decided to climb on his bed? He’d heard that rats liked to bite peoples toes in their sleep, what if he got rabies or something?

  Reigen squeezed his eyes shut again. No no no no no, he was not going to think about that. He was going to spot the critter, and then trap it... somehow, and throw it outside. Before it decided to munch on his toes.

  The shuffling continued until it was at the foot of his bed. Pale moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating his room, so he had a clear view of what it was at the foot of his bed.

  The blurry figure moved stealthily across the carpet, nothing more than a greyish blob. He couldn’t make out any details at all... oh right, he didn’t have his contacts in. Reigen attempted to sit up without making a sound, succeeded for the most part, and (slowly, quietly) fumbled to find his reading glasses on the bedside table. He slipped them on, and looked back at the mouse. But it wasn’t a mouse.

  A tiny humanoid figure was tiptoeing towards his bedroom door. It was no bigger than a doll, with black hair on its head, and wearing dark clothing. And it was in his house. In his bedroom.

  Reigen had no idea how to react to this. He waited until the creature had left the room, before carefully following on socked feet. This was surreal. On the off chance that this wasn’t a dream, He peeked his head around the doorframe.

  The tiny person continued out towards the couch in the main room. What was it doing? Reigen remained where he was, eyes trained on the figure. It stopped in front of the couch, standing on the balls of its feet to peek over the couch cushion, apparently looking for something. It glanced around, and spotted a bowl near the arm of the couch, on the floor. It was the bowl Reigen had eaten out of the day before, before he had left for work in the morning. He had eaten plain rice for breakfast. The figure walked up to it, before leaning down into the bowl. Scooping a few rice grains out of it, it began eating with fervour.

  So this had been what was going on. The thing must have taken his special matchbox. Reigen narrowed his eyes at the thief, debating whether to confront it or not. On the one hand, it hadn’t done anything wrong, per say, except take his beloved matchbox. But then again it was in his house. Uninvited. Reigen thought on this, hoping maybe he could reason with it. But it might not even understand him.

  Seeing the figure stuff its face full of rice made him pause. The desperate pace at which it was eating made it clear that it was probably starving, or at least getting there. Reigen decided to wait until it was done eating before trying anything.

  After less than a minute, the figure seemed satisfied, having eaten every leftover grain of rice in the bowl. It then turned towards the bedroom door, most likely intent on going back under Reigen’s bed. There must have been another hiding place under there or something.  
The figure froze, spying him in the doorway. Reigen now had a full view of it’s face, and he saw... a young face, with sallow, boney cheeks and dark, sunken eyes. This thing was just a kid. And it was barely scraping by, it seemed.

  Reigen cleared his throat, which made the child flinch. Reigen continued anyway, saying “uh... hey there,” and giving a little wave.

  Its terrified face continued looking at him. Reigen noticed the shaking in its knees and hands. It was one step away from bolting.

  “You don’t have to be scared,” Reigen said as quietly as he could. At moments like this he cursed his loud voice. “I won’t do anything to you. Did you um...” Reigen paused. “Did you need anything? Like I can get you some water, or... I don’t know. Tea? Do you like tea?”

  The figure backed up a step. It was clearly scared out of its mind. Reigen decided to take a different approach.

  “That uh... the door I found. And taped shut. Sorry about that. I didn’t. Really didn’t know what it was. I can get the tape off for you.” It was just a kid. Was it on its own? Where were its parents? _What was it doing in his house?_

  Reigen took a stride forward. The child immediately took several steps back until its back was pressed up against the couch. “I’m just gonna remove the tape from the door. That’s all I’m gonna do. I won’t even come over there.” True to his word, he walked over to the coffee table, pushing it out of the way. The duct tape was still there, but one corner appeared to have been pulled at. He grabbed the corner of the silver tape and pulled it off in one sweeping motion. Reigen looked back over at where the kid was. Still against the couch. Still staring holes into his back. Reigen swallowed uncomfortably. He had no idea what he was doing.

  “You don’t look too great, actually. I could make us some tea? I’m gonna make us some tea. Let me see what I got here,” he said, standing up. He spun on his heel towards the kitchen. Reigen knew this was probably pointless, that as soon as he turned his back the boy would book it towards the hole in the wall. Nonetheless, he strode into the kitchen, and reached into one of the top cupboards.

  “Alright, let’s see what I got here... I’ve got some... chamomile in this one, and some green tea over here, oh. Wait, I think green tea is supposed to wake you up or something. Maybe chamomile would be best. What do you think?” He chanced a glance over his shoulder at his guest.

  Surprisingly, he was still there. The child blinked at him, and after a pause, he whispered, “Chamomile is... is fine...” His voice was scratchy and shaky, obviously scarcely used.

  Reigen smiled. “That’s what I like to hear,” He flicked on the electric kettle before grabbing several teabags. “Do you take it with cream or sugar? Or milk?” He tried to put some of his social prowess to use here. Baiting him into talking might help him feel more comfortable. That’s how it was with most people, hopefully it would work on this one as well. It struck him again how strange this all was.

  The boy gulped. “Um... milk?” He hunched his shoulders a tiny bit, as if he was confessing a great sin, instead of simply telling Reigen how he liked his tea.

  “Sounds good,” he replied, before turning towards the fridge. He didn’t have a lot of milk left, but the kid was so small that he wouldn’t need very much at all. Now he just had to find the teapot...

  Reigen found the teapot behind a stack of unwashed dishes, and he removed the lid to peer inside. It didn’t _look_ dirty, but he rinsed it in the sink anyway.

  He wasn’t sure if he had a cup small enough for the boy. He’d heard stories of faeries who drank out of Acorn tops, or tiny doll cups, or thimbles. Did he have any of those...?

  Maybe he’d find a thimble in his sewing kit. It wouldn’t hurt to check, at least. Reigen walked over to his desk, opening it up to look inside. He grabbed the sewing kit, unzipping it and finding what he was looking for. A small, silver thimble, much too small for his own finger. Satisfied, he grabbed it and returned to the kitchen.

  The kettle was almost done, as it began whistling loudly. Reigen quickly silenced it, before pouring some of the boiling water into the teapot, along with the teabags he had grabbed earlier. He then grabbed a chipped mug (the one with the least amount of water stains) and the silver thimble, and brought them over to the couch. The child backed away a step as he drew closer. Reigen tried to sit as far away as he could, hoping it might help the boy feel at ease.

  “Did you... want to sit on the couch?” Reigen asked. He really wasn’t sure about the etiquette of a situation like this. Would it be rude to offer to carry him up?

  The boy, eyes still trained on him, grabbed at something on his waist. For a second Reigen thought he might have had a weapon of some sort (like a nail, or a toothpick) but instead he unhooked from his side a crude grappling device. It appeared to be made of simple string braided together, and some hooks.

  He held the rope in both hands, one holding the spool and the other holding near the hook. He began spinning the hook and rope behind him, before using the momentum to launch it up onto the couch cushion. It caught on the cloth fibres, and the boy tugged on it once to ensure it was anchored properly, before beginning his ascent.

  Watching the boy struggle to pull his frail body up the woven cord, Reigen felt inclined to help in some way. He thought about reaching out, but quickly decided against it. The kid was scared enough as it was, there was no need for Reigen to spook him even more.

  The strange child climbed up onto the cushion, before dislodging his climbing gear, winding it back up with an expert hand. He glanced up at Reigen, then looked away quickly, still keeping him easily in view. He did not sit down.

  Reigen busied himself with the teapot, filling the thimble carefully. The little thing didn’t hold much, and he hoped the drink wasn’t too hot. It hadn’t been sitting for very long. He handed it to the boy, whose eyes didn’t leave Reigen’s hands as they approached. He accepted the little cup given to him with shaky hands, and took several steps away from Reigen, until his back was against the arm of the couch.

  They stayed like that for a moment, before Reigen filled his own cup with tea.  
“So,” Reigen began. He wasn’t sure how to word the question in a casual, friendly way, so he just went with what came to mind: “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I worked today, and the next two days so I might not update? I don’t know how long this inspiration is gonna last but imma ride it as much as I can
> 
> Hope you enjoyed  
> Kudos/Comments mean the world to me <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation occurs. There is tea and cookies (sort of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting before I gotta work at 2, sorry if there are mistakes
> 
> This is the part where everyone realizes I can’t write in character and leaves /shot
> 
> Enjoy

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

  Mob gulped. This was bad. The whole situation was bad. All sense of predictability had been thrown out the window. Mob’s only hope was to listen to and obey Reigen as best as he could, and hope against hope that he didn’t anger him. His life was dependent on what he said in these next few moments. So, of course, now was the time when his throat refused to obey him. Mob opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

  This was it. This is how he would die. Reigen was about to drive him out, or call an exterminator, or squish him like a bug. All because he couldn’t get a few words out. Mob’s breathing picked up, and he could hardly feel his hands as they shook. The liquid in the cup was disturbed as well, creating tiny ripples on the surface of the tea. Mob stared at his cup to avoid Reigen’s gaze. He knew he’d find annoyance written in his features, and he wanted to hold onto the slim chance that maybe Reigen would feel merciful.

  “Well, I can start then.” Reigen said, balancing his mug between his knees so his hands were free. “I’m Reigen Arataka, also known as the world’s greatest private investigator.” He punctuated this with a grand wave of his hand. It might have been more impressive if he was wearing something other than pajamas. “I’ve solved many a cold case just due to my own wits. I’m the kind of guy who would take on any case, no matter how big or small,” Reigen smirked. Mob looked away, as he was having trouble determining whether Reigen was getting annoyed by him or not. He’d rather not know.

  Reigen seemed to catch himself, pulling his mug back into his hands. “So I’ve introduced myself, now... who are you? You got a name?”

  Mob tried to answer a second time. Mercifully, his body allowed him to speak. “...Mob. I’m Mob.” He said. The less he said, the less likely Reigen was to get bored of him. At least that’s what he told himself.

  “Alright, Mob it is then. So what business do you have being in my house at this ungodly hour?”

  Mob’s stomach dropped into his shoes. He didn’t hear an accusatory tone in the words Reigen spoke to him, but he was sure the anger was hidden in there somewhere. _Keep the conversation going and you’ll find a way out of this_ , he thought. Lying was an option. He could say he was just passing though, or something. Mob was having trouble keeping his composure. He wasn’t very good at lying.

  “I was hungry...” Mob said, hunching away. Reigen’s patience was surely wearing thin. He wasn’t sure what to say other than that.

  Reigen cocked his head. “Are you still hungry? I don’t have any cookies, but I think I have some crackers in one of my cupboards,” he said, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder at the kitchen.

  Mob met his gaze. Was he actually offering...?

  Something in Mob’s eyes must have convinced him, as Reigen leaned down to place his mug on the ground, before getting up and moving to the kitchen again. He kept his crackers in the top cupboard, where there weren’t any good places to anchor his climbing gear, out of Mob’s reach.

  “They’re just soda crackers, and they don’t exactly go too great with tea... Here, one for you, a couple for me...”

  Reigen grabbed a small handful of the crackers and brought them back with him to Mob.

  Reigen stepped carefully around the mug and other dishes on the floor in front of the couch. Mob saw him glance at the empty bowl of rice he had been eating out of before Reigen saw him. He felt his face heat up in shame. He had been forced to rely on those leftovers for the past several years, and it occurred to him that doing so might paint a bad impression of himself. Eating garbage off the floor like some sort of vermin. Disgusting. Mob tried telling himself that he had no choice in the matter, but he was having trouble believing those thoughts.

  Reigen broke him out of his self-depreciating thoughts by handing a cracker to him. Mob’s eyes darted from the cracker, to Reigen’s hand, and Reigen’s face, silently asking for permission. When he saw no change in the human’s expression, he quickly grabbed the cracker with one hand (his other still held the half-empty tea), before stuffing as much of the cracker as he could into his mouth. He ate quickly, suddenly not caring if it came off as rude. He hadn’t eaten this much at once in months, and he was sure to take advantage of Reigen’s pity. And it was pity. It wasn’t altruism, or an act of kindness just for the sake of kindness. But Mob was too concerned with eating right now to care.

  Reigen’s eyes lingered on Mob’s thin form, a crease in his eyebrows forming. Mob slowed his frantic pace, suddenly wary again. It wouldn’t do to be caught off guard now. Mob was almost finished with his cracker, his belly much fuller than he could ever remember having it.

  For once, the clawing hunger had vanished. For once, Mob felt... okay.

  Reigen spoke, saying “So that door... in the baseboard. Is that where you live?” Mob nodded in response. “And... do you live alone?” 

  Mob looked away again, cracker forgotten. He tried not to think about how he was on his own, and tried to convince himself that it was a normal thing. After all, Reigen lived alone, right? And he managed just fine. Most of the time.

  Reigen took his lack of response as an answer of sorts, and responded in turn by leaning back, lips pressed in a thin line. Mob had angered him. Mob took a few steps back, the cracker dropping from his hands. If Reigen turned on him, it was all over for Mob. His only hope was to delay the inevitable, running towards the hole in the baseboard and seeking sanctuary there. At least until Reigen decided to get mouse traps, or Raid, or an exterminator. Mob was having trouble controlling his breathing again. He couldn’t let Reigen know he was getting worked up though, or he might react poorly.

  Reigen filled the silence by taking a gulp of his tea. Immediately after doing so, he sputtered, the mug dropping from his hands as he rushed to cover his mouth. He then realized his mistake, grabbing for and missing the mug as it tumbled through the air towards the hardwood.

  Mob shot a hand out, willing his powers to obey, catching the mug before it hit the ground, as well as all of the tea that had been flung from the cup. He carefully poured the liquid back into the mug, before setting it on the ground. Mob looked towards Reigen, a small smile on his face, but it was quickly wiped away when he saw Reigen’s reaction.

  Reigen had retreated into the side of the couch, back against the armrest, arms splayed out, grabbing onto the fabric of the sofa. He was staring at Mob, wide eyed. Reigen cleared his throat, before resuming a more relaxed position, eyes still comically wide.

  “That’s a... neat little thing you did there. With the floaty... um...” Reigen blinked rapidly. “Can all little people do that? I mean...” He trailed off, looking like he was regretting his choice of words.

  “I have psychic powers.” Mob said, guarded. He kept looking towards Reigen to gauge his reaction. “I don’t know if anyone else with powers like mine.” Mob didn’t deem it important to say he didn’t know anyone else, period. Other than his family, who he hadn’t seen since... well. He stopped himself from going down that train of thought.

  “... I see.” Reigen said weakly, before rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m gonna need something a little stronger than tea to deal with something like this... what time is it anyway...? Oh shhhhhh-crap it’s like 4 am. This will have to wait until morning. I can’t afford to be late tomorrow... today. I gotta go to bed. You can keep my crackers. I gotta... hm. Good night.” Briskly, Reigen walked his mug and the rest of the teapot to the sink, dumping them both out before speed walking towards his bedroom.

  Mob blinked at his hasty retreat. That was it? Had he talked with a human and come out completely unscathed? He even had a few crackers for tomorrow still. Mob let out a breath, before taking his thimble-cup in one hand and the crackers under the other arm, dropping off the couch and heading towards his door in the baseboards. That had gone... amazingly well, actually. Reigen didn’t seem mad at all. Maybe he wouldn’t have to find a new place to live after all?

  Mob curled up in his bed (a nest made from a frayed cloth and some stuffing from an abandoned toy), cautiously optimistic about tomorrow. He doubted he’d get much sleep tonight, after all that. But he tried anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll do more proofreading later
> 
> Hope u enjoyed


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo had a long day at work but I’m home now and ready to chill for the rest of the night
> 
> I have a confession to make. I’ve never read the Borrowers. I’ve been fooling you all :^)

  Reigen had... a _bit_ of trouble falling asleep after the revelation that there was a magical child that had secretly been _living in his walls_. He tried not to think about how this child could kill him in his sleep. Tried _really freaking hard_. But he couldn’t help thinking about how easily Mob had caught the boiling tea and the mug, before returning the water to it without a second thought. He wondered how much the child could carry, like would he be able to lift a person with ease, or control them like a puppet, or maybe stop someone’s blood from flowing...

  Reigen tried not to think about it. And he succeeded, marginally. However when he _did_ manage to fall asleep, morning came much too soon for his liking.

  It felt as if he had just closed his eyes, finally gotten his body to relax a little, when his alarm started beeping shrilly not two feet from his ear. He slammed his hand down on the snooze button, without lifting his head off the pillow. He just needed the extra 3 minutes of sleep. Then he’d get up...

  This pattern continued until Reigen’s hand had slapped down on the clock at least twice more, and Reigen finally came to determine that if he didn’t get up now, he’d probably never get up, and he might as well die in the comfy coffin he called his bed.

  Reigen rolled over, and decided that it was now or never. He brought his legs down so his feet touched the carpeted floor. He was _so tired_. What had he been doing... ? He’d been up until 4 in the morning talking to... a kid. A magical kid who could use magic. _Literal_ magic. What were they called, the tiny magical creatures... pixies, elfs... brownies? Brownies were the ones who lived in people’s houses, right?

  Reigen let out a breathy laugh, holding his face in his hands. That can’t have been what happened. But he hadn’t been dreaming, he was pretty sure. Suddenly curious, he peered under his bed, looking for some sign that what had happened last night was fake.

  Behind the mounds of dust bunnies that gathered in herds under there, he saw something. Another door. It didn’t look as well made as the other door, but it was the same size. Same shape.

  Reigen ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. This... ugh, he couldn’t deal with this right now. Breakfast. That sounded like a good idea.

  He got up, and wandered into the kitchen. He shivered. The thermostat always shut off overnight to save on money, and every morning he lamented over the lack of circulation in his cold fingers and toes. He was surprised to see the little thimble, the one he had given to the child for tea, was now on the countertop. Clean. Reigen stared at it for a moment. Then he moved past it and set about boiling some minute rice.

  What was supposed to happen now? Was he supposed to live life normally, knowing there was a magical being living in his house, living off the dregs of Reigen’s meals for the day? He couldn’t live with himself knowing that there was something that relied on him to survive, that it was _starving_ and it was partially his fault. On top of that, it was just a kid. Living (presumably) alone in a dirty, smoky apartment. God, what a life. What did he do during the hours that Reigen was out of the house...?

  He patted his pockets unconsciously, looking for his lighter, before realizing it was in his suit’s front pocket, and not on his pinstriped pyjama’d person. While the rice cooked, he went in search of his suit, and by extension, his lighter.

  After a minute or two of searching, he found he had actually hung up his suit in the closet, for once. Hopefully that meant it would be mostly wrinkle-free. He quickly grabbed the lighter from the breast pocket, before heading to the kitchen once more.

  Reigen snagged the half empty cigarette box he kept on top of the microwave with numb fingers. He coaxed a cigarette out of its package with a little shake, taking it in his mouth. He flicked on the lighter. And then flicked it shut again before it lighted on the tip of the cigarette.

  Mob was most assuredly not someone who smoked. And he was being forced to live in a flat that was _filled_ with the stuff. That wasn’t fair for him, not fair at all. He never had guests very often, but every time someone came over for dinner or a movie they would brave the smoke for a few minutes, before breaking and politely asking him to open a window, turn on a fan, _anything_. Mob probably had secondhand smoke to the highest degree possible.

  Reigen weighed his options for a moment, and decided to smoke outside on the balcony for once. He could use the fresh air anyway.

-

  As Reigen scraped the rice out of the rice-cooker and into a bowl, he was reminded of the sight he saw last night. The rail-thin child, eating desperately out of an old, crusty bowl. Eating dried-out, cold rice mush with dirty fingers.

 Reigen’s heart twinged in sympathy. His eyes flicked towards the living room, to the coffee table next to the wall. He stalled for a moment, thinking, and came to a decision. He reached into the drawer that held the rice bowls, pulling out a tiny one meant to hold a small amount of soy sauce or similar. He hardly ever bothered using it, simply dumping the stuff directly onto his rice. Otherwise it would just mean more dishes, and there were enough piled up around here already.

  He filled the minuscule bowl with as much rice as it could hold, and grabbed the thimble off the counter and filled it with a small amount of soy sauce. He brought both over to the tiny door in the wall, before realizing that the coffee table was still in the way. He pulled it aside, dragging it until it was positioned in front of the couch. A few loose papers fell onto the floor, landing among the dust and dirt that was hidden by the coffee table. Great, more mess. He placed the documents back on the low table, and grabbed his old-but-practically-brand-new broom and dustpan from the closet.

  He swept up the area in front of the door in the baseboard, which had been hiding enough dust to fill most of the dustpan. There. Now maybe Mob wouldn’t have to wade through mounds of dirt and grime on the way out into the open.

  Reigen stooped down, bowl and thimble in hand. He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about this. Maybe he should just place the rice by the door and be done with it.

  No, the polite thing to do would be invite him to breakfast. That was the first rule of befriending a faerie, right? Show them hospitality? Then again, he might not even be a faerie. He could just be a... very small person. Named Mob. What kind of name _was_ that, anyway?

  Reigen shook his head, before rapping twice on the door with his knuckles. “Oi, kid. I mean- Mob. I got some breakfast out here if you’re up for it. Do you like rice and soy sauce?”

  There was no sound for a moment, and then Reigen heard what sounded like little feet running down the wall towards the door. He held his breath, listening as the deadbolt was unlocked. Reigen backed up a step, leaving the rice bowl on the ground a few tiny steps in front of the door.

  The door opened ever so slightly, then stopped. He saw an eye peering through at him. Cautious, as always.

  Reigen met it with his own pair of eyes, then pointed behind him, at the couch. “I’m gonna sit over there, alright? You can join me if you want, or you can eat here, I don’t mind. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” Reigen gave a hopeful smile. No use intimidating his powerful roommate. Not that he himself wasn’t intimidated. This thing was strong, and just meeting its gaze made Reigen feel very small. Very small indeed.

  Reigen tried to regain his composure, then took the few steps to the couch. As he turned around to sit down, he noticed that, in the few seconds it had taken him to move a few feet, the rice bowl (along with the thimble-sized serving of soy sauce) were both missing, and the painted wooden door was closed again.

  Well, that was fine. As long as the kid got to eat, he wasn’t complaining.

  He ate his rice in silence, before checking his phone. Oh- was that the time? He had to hurry. Reigen had six minutes to finish his food and get out the door in time. He got up, rice bowl in hand, and jogged from room to room, picking up his keys, phone, wallet, briefcase. He realized he wasn’t even dressed yet. Reigen scarfed down his food on the way to his room, then fumbled to put his suit on.

  As he approached the front door, still tying his tie, he cast one last glance at Mob’s door.

  And saw a tiny head peeking out from behind the doorframe. Reigen gave a cheerful wave, which, after a long moment, the boy returned, if a bit shakily. Reigen smiled warmly, and left the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are psychic powers magical? Is Mob just a small human or is he a magical creature? Nobody knows. I sure don’t.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast is had. Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I’m kind of running out of ideas for this fic??? So idk when the next update will be. I’ve got SOME ideas but I gotta. Figure out what I’m doing. So no more daily updates probably :( sorry

  Mob agonized over whether he should eat the rice, or not push his luck again.

  As soon as he saw Reigen turn his back, he flung the door open, grabbing the dish with his powers and whipping it towards him. He followed this by slamming the door behind it. Mob knew that Reigen was likely to take back his kindness at any moment, and the boy was determined to keep what he had been given away from Reigen’s reach.

  He heard the steps falter, and then what sounded like the couch springs settling. So Reigen was eating on the couch. Mob didn’t dare touch his bowl of rice, telling himself it was obviously tainted somehow. He hadn’t seen Reigen prepare it, so he had no idea what could be in it.

  Mob had heard stories, stories where unwanted visitors were treated to old-fashioned mouse traps, sticky traps, or simple poison. His mother had told him these stories, mostly to keep him on guard, he thought, but there had to have been some truth to the stories. And being on guard was the only thing that kept him alive during his three year stay in Reigen’s apartment.

  Or at least, that’s what he had _thought_ , until he had been seen. Last night, after eating a measly supper of old rice, he had been caught red handed. Stealing Reigen’s food. And yet... he wasn’t killed. _Why_?

  Mob thought on this as he lay in bed not a few hours after. He had come up with no answer. If someone had been stealing his food, would Mob have gotten angry? Then again, Reigen had a surplus of food in his house, and Mob... Mob had several crackers. He couldn’t afford to lose any of them, as he didn’t know when Reigen might decide to go out for dinner, or skip out on breakfast.

  Hold on, Mob also had the bowl of rice he had been given. He turned his head to peer at it, mostly hidden from the light coming through the door, but a small sliver still shone through onto it. Mob slowly approached it, and sniffed it carefully. It just smelled like plain old rice. Not very strong, compared to whatever was in the thimble. He lifted the thimble, and brought his nose above it. It was that sauce that Reigen normally had with his rice, what was it called? Soy juice.

  Mob wasn’t sure he trusted the brown liquid. The overpowering scent could be blocking some other smell. Like rat poison. Mob shivered, recalling another story told by his mother. She had seen the effects before, on a family friend. _Something to do with unbearable thirst, followed by the bleeding_...

  Mob took a deep breath, pressing his eyes shut. He didn’t need the brown stuff. He’d eaten rice plain plenty of times. And it was even cooked, this time. He really didn’t want to waste it.

  He took some in his hand. So far, so good. It was warm and fluffy, having been freshly cooked. He’d never had rice this fresh before. He brought some to his mouth. And it was... good. Plain, but soft on his tongue, familiar, with a slightly nutty taste. It was the same kind Reigen always had, but having it warm just made it that much better. He didn’t sense any strange chemical flavour in the rice, so it was probably (hopefully) safe.

  Having taken one bite, Mob found it was hard to stop, the novelty of having warm food exhilarating. Before long the pile of rice was cleared.

He knew he was pushing his luck, _again_ , but he wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, things were turning around for him. That maybe, after living by himself for so long, he could finally have. A friend.

  Mob blinked, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. Now he was getting ahead of himself. Reigen wasn’t someone he could afford to take chances with. But... he’d continued to take chance after chance with him... and he’d been okay so far. But Mob knew that, as soon as he let his guard down, Reigen would strike. He couldn’t afford another slip up.

  Mob heard the couch springs shift again, before hurried footsteps scouted the apartment. Mob checked the wristwatch he had hanging on the wall of the tunnel, pushing the empty rice bowl out of the way so the beam of light from the door landed on it, allowing Mob to read it. It was just before Reigen left for work.

  Mob waited as Reigen searched each room, getting his things together. Mob heard him pass by his tunnel, steps headed for the front door.

  Mob pushed open his door leading into the living room, peeking his head out. He knew it was stupid, that he shouldn’t be trusting Reigen this much, but he did it anyway. His eyes fell upon the figure next to the front door.

  Mob found eyes staring at him. He didn’t have much experience reading faces, but he hoped there wasn’t any hostility in Reigen’s face that he couldn’t detect. Mob’s heart stopped for a moment, eyes blinking rapidly. He should say something, but his throat refused to work. Mob settled with raising a hand, giving Reigen a little wave. He trembled.  
Reigen met him with a smile, turning back towards the door. And with that, he closed the door behind him.

  Mob collapsed onto his hands and knees the moment the door was closed. His breaths came in short, small puffs, and he wrestled for control of his own breathing. He couldn’t feel his hands again. Hopefully the rice hadn’t been poisoned, and it was just his own nerves doing that.

  But Reigen had smiled at him. Did that mean he wasn’t mad? He wish he had an easier time reading faces. That would make things easier, at least in a situation like this. He couldn’t afford to mistake any of Reigen’s expressions for another.  
Mob took in a deep breath. It didn’t matter now. Now he had a few hours to himself. He didn’t have to worry about hiding, or being too loud, at least for a little while.

  Mob let out a breath, giving a little smile. All these nerves had to be doing no favours to his health. He shook his head. Maybe he could see what was on tv, and hopefully that would calm him down some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I know this was just the same as last chapter but like. I’m trying my dudes. I write this for fun so i’ll TRY to continue with it but it might not happen :(
> 
> Hope you enjoyed


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mob gets a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmm hello. Sorry it took so long I am easily distracted and also writing is effort. You understand.
> 
> Anyway hopefully my characterization isn’t too far off heheh... *shot*

  Mob was sitting on the couch, facing the tv when he heard the balcony door unlatch. He gasped, scrambling off the couch and sliding underneath it, whacking his knee on the underside of it. Who was outside on the balcony? How did they get there without going through the apartment? _How did they unlock it from that side?_

  The glass door was slid to the side. Confident steps strode into the apartment, but they didn’t shake the ground with each step. They sounded... small. Delicate, almost.

  Mob peered out from under the couch. His bangs were in his face a little bit, which made it hard to see past them, but what he saw he wasn’t prepared for in the slightest.

  Another person his size. They stood a few paces from the balcony door, hand on one hip. He looked about Mob’s age, blond, and was surveying the messy apartment with narrowed eyes and a scrunched nose.

  “Gross.” he muttered. He stepped further into the room. He seemed to be oozing confidence, as if nothing in the world could touch him. He walked without a care steps slow and casual, hands now in the pockets of his grey dress pants.

  Upon spying the tiny door in the wall, he smirked, before making a beeline for it. He opened the door, letting it swing out and hit the baseboard with a _thock_. As he disappeared through it, Mob wondered what exactly he was doing. Was he hoping to find... him, the owner of the said door? Mob wasn’t sure he wanted to meet with this boy. He didn’t seem like the type to listen to reason, or at least the type of reason that Mob himself would consider reasonable.

  He found his answer when the boy emerged again. In his hand he held... the rest of Mob’s crackers. He was munching on one offhandedly, as if he hadn’t just stolen them. Mob’s heart tensed. He _needed_ those crackers. They were the only food he had right now. He couldn’t afford to lose them. He _couldn’t_.  
  Mob crawled out from under the couch, dust sticking to his hair and clothing. The boy hadn’t noticed him yet. He was headed towards the kitchen. Mob really didn’t want to talk with, much less _argue_ , with this other person. Mob wasn’t good with words. He didn’t know how to start this at all. Mob wrung his hands together, stalling.

  The blond boy took his time, feet tapping on the hardwood, then on the linoleum as he passed the kitchen threshold. He chewed with his mouth open, leaving cracker crumbs to fall onto his jacket and the floor. Mob bit his lip, still in the other room. Those were _his_. He _needed_ them. And they were being eaten right in front of him. By some... proud kid.

  The boy raised a hand, and a soap bubble-like, lemon-lime aura surrounded it, curling up his arm. The handle to the pantry was encased in a similar glow, before the latch was disengaged and the door swung open.

  Mob faltered. Someone else with psychic powers? He didn’t know there were others like him. And this boy was so powerful he could use his powers as he pleased, it seemed. He must be way out of Mob’s league.

  The purple-clad figure waltzed into the pantry, and summoned his powers again, pulling down objects from the shelves. He peered at each one, before releasing them, letting them fall to the bottom of the cupboard, one by one. Cup noodles, rice, abandoned sauces, soup cans, all piled up on the floor, adding to the mess tainting the apartment.

  Mob felt he should say something. Stop him from making an even bigger mess. Already half of the cupboard was on the ground. Mob felt that Reigen wouldn’t appreciate that, and would most likely blame Mob for it. His heart dropped into his stomach. He couldn’t have Reigen angry at him.

  Mob tiptoed over to the open door of the cupboard. The boy was still munching on _his_ crackers. Mob felt a pang of frustration, and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the boy talking to himself.

  “Really? _Nothing_ good? At _all_? Ugh...” the boy lowered his hand, and the items he had been holding fell to join the rest at the bottom of the pantry, landing on the ground noisily. He shook his head, then turned away, before catching sight of Mob a few feet behind him. He wore a mildly surprised expression, before covering it with a smirk.

  “Oh hey! I was wondering if anyone lived here,” the boy greeted Mob, with a small, thoughtless wave. He took another bite of the cracker he was holding, as if daring the other to say something.

  Mob looked away, hands balled up in his shirt. He tried to speak again. “U-um...” he stammered, trying to find his words. He chanced looking up at the other. “You... you shouldn’t take... I mean... those’re my... um...”

  “Uh huh. I know.” The boy said. Mob looked up at him, confused. “They _were_ yours, but they aren’t anymore, now that I got them. Why, what are you gonna do about it?” He taunted, taking a few steps closer. He had an almost predatory aura about him.

  Mob resisted the urge to back away. He licked his lips, anxiety rising. “But... I _need_ them.” He finished meekly.

  The boy laughed, before levelling his gaze at Mob. “Well, then take them from me. I’d like to see you try.” He stood in a manner that suggested he was trying to look casual, but was still on guard. Legs spread apart some, ready at a moment’s notice. Challenging him.

  Mob looked at him, trying to figure out what he was pulling. A counterattack maybe? He looked back at the crackers in the boy’s hands, their numbers dwindling by the minute. The boy didn’t even look that hungry. He was just taking them for the sake of taking them.

  Mob reached out towards a cracker. The boy immediately whacked Mob’s hand with a raised forearm, unyielding. Mob winced, cradling his soon-to-be bruised hand. He tried again, with his other hand. The same response. Mob drew his eyebrows together, looking confusedly at the blond. What was he supposed to do?

  “...please?” Mob tried.

  There was silence for a moment, followed by a barking laugh.

  “Oh man, you’re pathetic. Can’t handle a little hit like that? It’s a wonder you’ve lasted this long. Maybe I should just put you out of your misery before someone else does.” He leered a few inches over Mob, before his eyes were drawn to something around Mob’s waist. Lightning fast, he grabbed for it, and held it aloft. Mob’s grappling gear was inspected from all angles with a critical eye.

  Mob’s eyes widened. He reached for the grappling hook, now raised above the other boys’ head. A hand was pressed to Mob’s face to hold him down, and his fingers didn’t quite touch the grappler held out of his reach.

  “Wow, is this how you get around without psychic powers? Pretty lame if you ask me. Lemme just...” and with that, the boy reeled back and threw the contraption at the ground, Mob reaching after it. The fishing hooks left a ding in the linoleum where they hit the floor, and then snapped apart as a shoe came down on top of them, grinding it into the floor.  
Mob stared at the broken remains, and pressed his lips in a thin line. He glanced at the boy, who seemed to be waiting for some sort of reaction from him. Mob was at a loss.

  “...why are you doing this?” He said carefully. He didn’t want to upset the boy, but this was getting a little ridiculous. Who just goes around stealing and breaking other people’s things?

  “Well, why not? It’s not like you needed that.” He taunted.

  Mob thought for a moment. This was getting nowhere. He’d need to try something else.

  “Can... can you please leave? I-I don’t like you breaking my things. And... taking my food...” Mob finished with a whisper. He hunched his shoulders in, looking away.

  The boy stepped forward, dropping the crackers on the ground. “You can’t tell me what to do.” He said, a dangerous note in his voice.

  He was angry. Mob scrambled to fix his mistake. “I didn’t-“

  Rough hands grabbed him by the collar, bringing their faces close together. “I’ll do whatever I want. You can’t stop me.” He threw Mob at the ground, who landed in a heap. The boy stood over him. “You’re nothing compared to me.”  
  Mob turned over to face the boy, felt an indignant spark flare up within him, and frowned. He mustered up the courage to continue, saying “why do you insist on calling others ‘nothing’. It’s not... it’s not right. Just because you have psychic powers-“

  The boy kicked him in the shin. Hard. Well, it didn’t look like he put a lot of effor into it, but Mob didn’t have much muscle or fat to protect the bone there. So it hurt quite a bit. Mob yelped, and pulled his leg towards him. He tried to shuffle backwards, still on his back. The boy was sneering again, his upper lip curled up in contempt.

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” he snapped, staring unyieldingly at Mob. Mob no longer felt he had permission to look away, feeling his panic steadily rising. He didn’t know how to get out of this. Mob gulped, not brave enough to look away.

  The boy let out a “tch”, and turned his head away, towards the front door. Mob let out a breath, still on edge. The boy then seemed to come to a conclusion.

  “You know what? Screw this,” he said, turning on his heel. “It’s no fun when your opponent doesn’t even _try_ to fight back.”

  He continued towards the balcony door, taking another bite of the crackers he was holding again. Right, Mob had forgotten about those. He actually hadn’t seen him pick them up again. The boy held them loosely under one arm, seemingly focused on the one he was shoving into his mouth. Mob thought, _maybe I could... carefully..._

  Mob rose to his feet, and raised a hand. Hoping to be discreet, he tried loosening the crackers from the blond’s hold. They were enveloped in a soft, bluish glow, which did not go unnoticed by the boy.

  The crackers immediately fell to the floor, as they were released from the boy’s hand. He had jumped away, hands sporting his own yellow aura, now entirely focused on the foreign psychic power around the thing that he had been holding seconds earlier. His eyes snapped towards Mob, before his gaze was drawn to the glow of Mob’s hand, which was hastily fading. Undisguised shock was written all over his face. Mob took a shaky step backwards. He should have just cut his losses, he should have let him take the crackers, he should have...

  “What... you have powers too?” He said, disbelief apparent in his tone. His face then changed to cold outrage, eyes narrowed. “ _No_.” He spat. “You’re just... just some kid who...” he trailed off, then let out an aggravated breath, before regaining some self control. “ _Fine_ then. We’ll just see who’s the better fighter here.” He shifted into a practiced stance, hands now coated in a blinding light.

  Mob gulped. This wasn’t looking good. “H-hey, there’s really no need to-“

 He was interrupted by a heavy fist in the chest, which flung him backwards, where his head hit the wall with a sickening  _crack_. Mob’s vision faded, followed quickly by his other senses. He surrendered himself to the darkness that enveloped him. Knocked out before he slid down the wall, he landed onto the floor in a motionless heap. He had no way of stopping the surge of dark, concentrated psychic power that rose up from within to protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ hope you enjoyed
> 
> Wrote most of this like. On the 9th. But then I got stuck. BUT ITS DONE NOW (the Chapter I mean. Not the fic.)
> 
> I also got data on my phone now so I can post chapters whenever I want, as opposed to having to wait until work is over/for the wifi to turn back on.
> 
> Anyway goodnight I gotta be up at 7 tomorrow and it’s midnight. I make good decisions. :D
> 
> Mystery boy will show up again some other time, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you all know who it is though.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reigen comes home. Is met with a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I updated yesterday just so you know, in case you missed it.
> 
> Yooo I got sick today/yesterday. Mostly just a runny nose/sore throat and feeling gross. But I have today and tomorrow off so I should be fine.
> 
> Oh warning for mild emetophobia. It’s not the worst though.
> 
> Hope you enjoy

  Having opened the office window several minutes ago, Reigen decided that enough smoke had cleared out of the office for today. Thick fog had wafted out of the window at first, but the air in the room was breathable now, or at least he hoped it was.

  Reigen finished packing up his laptop and briefcase, and finished locking up the safe. There hadn’t been many clients today, so the ashtray on his desk was positively overflowing with ashes and cigarette butts. Reigen stared at it for a moment, debating whether it was worth the effort of dumping its contents into the trash. He squinted at it for a few seconds longer than necessary, before resigning and taking it in one hand. He haphazardly shook it off in the garbage bin, perhaps with a little less care than required, as a billow of ashy air blew up as it hit the bottom of the trash bag.

  Reigen decided that was enough cleaning for today.

  The drive home from the office was always a blur, and today was no different. Reigen had driven it so many times that it was irreversibly ingrained into his mind, so much so that muscle memory did all the work. He’d had his fair share of cigarettes for the day, due to a slow morning and an even slower afternoon, so Reigen thought about skipping the one he normally smoked as soon as he got home. Was it worth the few yen he would save? ...He’d probably cave after an hour or so anyway.

 Reigen decided not to dwell on it and just focus on driving, but it seemed as though he had just pulled into the complex. He was zoning out more than he thought. This seemed to be happening more and more lately, but as long as he didn’t land in a ditch due to a fiery crash, his thoughts could wander all they wanted.

  Reigen’s thoughts were interrupted by another, more specific thought: the boy who lived in his wall. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t remembered, too caught up in his daily routine. What exactly did he get up to, when Reigen wasn’t there? He’d probably been living there for at least a little while, so it wasn’t as if he spent his free time destroying the apartment.

  Reigen would have definitely noticed that sooner, had that been the case. Still, now that Reigen knew about his little roommate, and that said roommate knew that he’d been discovered, the boy could be doing who knows what. Reigen frowned, walking a bit faster. Not that he was worried for the boy, or his apartment, or anything.

  He almost tripped going up the stairs, but other than that the journey to his apartment was uneventful. Reigen wasn’t sure what to expect behind the door to his own apartment. Probably nothing, right? What could one tiny psychic child do in the short hours that he was gone today?

  He opened the door to his apartment.

  And regretted it immediately.

  It was as if a tornado had blown through. Furniture had been toppled over, papers were strewn everywhere, ashes had been thrown across the room. There were several long cracks in the walls, the floors, even the ceiling. One of the lamps had fallen to the floor with a smash, leaving sharp lightbulb pieces in it’s wake. The tv looked as though it had been beaten to death by a baseball bat, or perhaps it had simply crumpled in on itself. The few pictures Reigen owned had been knocked off the walls and the cupboard, glass on the front shattered, with spidery cracks obscuring the photos.

  Reigen stood for a moment, before quickly entering his apartment, leaving his shoes on so as not to cut his feet on the glass that seemed to be everywhere. _Mob couldn’t have done this all himself, could he? Was he angry because of something?_ Reigen bit his lip, tiptoeing towards the broom he kept in the hallway closet. He should at least clean up the glass. He could deal with the rest later. He set about sweeping in the main room, catching sight of his crumpled tv for the second time. Reigen sighed. He had gotten that tv at a thrift shop, so it wasn’t as if it was _expensive_ or anything, but he was still sad about the loss of the much used item. He’d deal with it later, he’d said. One thing at a time.

  Reigen finished up sweeping as best as he could in the living room, then moved onto the entryway. He skipped his bedroom, as he had left the door closed, so hopefully it wasn’t a mess in there as well. There was carpet in there anyway, so he’d need to dig out the vacuum, which he was _not_ planning on doing right now.

  As he walked towards the kitchen, he noticed it was... _mostly_ clear of debris. The lack of dust, drywall, and glass seemed to be localized to one spot, near the wall. And then he saw why.

  Mob was on the floor, sprawled out on his back, his clothes void of dust or residue. The mess around him had been pushed outwards and away from him, leaving a clear circle on the floor around the boy.

  Reigen abandoned the broom, rushing over to where the tiny boy was laying on the ground. He reached out to try and sit him up, or hold him, or something, but hesitated for a second. He didn’t want to hurt him more than he already was. What was he supposed to do? Was he hurt? _Was he dead? Oh god_...

  Reigen got over his hesitation, ever-so-gently cradling the boy in his too-big hands. He tried to feel for a pulse in his arm, pulling up one sleeve. Mob’s body wasn’t cold, but Reigen had trouble finding a pulse on anyone, regardless of size, so it was no surprise when all he could feel was his own heart beating through his fingers. Reigen bit his lip, anxiety rising. _What was he supposed to do in a situation like this?_ He let go of Mob’s arm, holding him in both his hands carefully. He was so light, which worried him immensely. He couldn’t focus on the child’s eating habits, he had to help him with whatever was going on right now. _What had happened...?_

  “Hey.” Reigen whispered. Mob didn’t respond. “Hey. _Mob_. Please, wake up. I need to know you’re okay.” Reigen tried to quell the shaking of his hands, not wanting to jostle the poor boy, who still wasn’t moving. “...Mob? Mob, _please_ , can you hear me? _Mob_?”

  The boy’s hand twitched. Reigen held his breath, before seeing Mob scrunch up his face in pain. His breathing might have picked up a fraction.  
Reigen felt his anxiety spike, but continued, “Mob, hey, are you hurt? What happened?” He had to keep talking, that was all he could do right now. “Do you need anything? Tell me what to do so I can help you. Are you hurt?”

  Mob’s eyelids fluttered, and he tried bringing a hand to his face, shaky and slow. His bangs were plastered with sweat. Mob took in a breath, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze was unfocused and dazed, before his eyes zoned in on the person in front of him. Mob’s eyes widened, and he tried scooting away, before realizing that he was being held by said person. Panic overtook him, and he scrambled to get out of Reigen’s hold.

  Reigen, to his credit, reacted quickly and brought him to the ground. Mob immediately took the opportunity, turning and climbing out of Reigen’s hand onto the floor. Or at least, he tried to. His foot got caught on one of his fingers, which sent him tumbling out onto the floor. Mob’s hands weren’t quite quick enough to catch himself, and he hit his head on the linoleum floor. Reigen cringed in sympathy, reaching out to Mob, who was breathing heavily, now holding his head. He seemed to have abandoned any thoughts of getting away.  
Mob curled in on himself, eyes squeezed shut, both hands holding his head. He hadn’t hit it that hard, had he?

  “Mob...” Reigen started, and the boy flinched, now covering his ears. His breathing was getting louder and faster by the second, almost as if he-

  He didn’t have the chance to finish the thought as Mob emptied the contents of stomach onto the floor with a heave. Reigen cringed again, unable to do much but watch. Poor kid. _Had he really hit his head that hard?_

  Mob held himself up with his hands, now on all fours, shaking like a leaf. A string of saliva hung from his mouth. There hadn’t been much to pass up, it looked like, as the puddle in front of him was mostly water, bile and mostly digested rice.

  Reigen’s stomach turned. He stood up, walked the short distance to the counter, and grabbed the thimble that was sitting on it. He brought it over to the sink, filling it with cold water, and brought it to the boy.

  Mob seemed to be focusing all his energy on not throwing up, trying to steady his breathing. His eyes were half open, staring at nothing, but caught sight of Reigen with the cup of water held within his reach. Reigen gave a hopeful smile, hoping to put him at ease.

  Mob tried to focus on Reigen, and the thimble being given to him. He sat up on his knees, and reached out for the thimble carefully. He brought it to his mouth, taking a few sips. He shuddered, handing the water back to Reigen. Mob looked as though he just wanted to give up and pass out then and there, but he still needed to make sure Reigen wouldn’t pull anything. Mob watched him with half-lidded eyes, again with his hand pressed to the back of his head.

  “... are you hurt?” Reigen said quietly, not wanting to add to the boy’s obvious headache. He took an educated guess on the situation, asking “Did... did you hit your head?” He pointed at his own head for emphasis.

  Mob thought for a moment, before beginning to nod, but then thought better of it. “Yeah.” He croaked.

  “May I see?” Reigen asked gently. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Mob stiffened, eyes widening. He got to his feet carefully, wincing at every movement.

  Reigen put up his hands in surrender, which only caused a flinch from Mob. “Alright, alright. You shouldn’t be walking around on your own though, if you have a concussion.” _At least, that’s what I think it is..._

  Mob continued staring at him. Hopefully he was taking this in. Then a thought occurred to Reigen. “Have you eaten anything since this morning?”

  Mob again took a little more time than necessary to respond. He shook his head slowly, gaze not leaving his face.

  “Well, I’m gonna make something really quick. For the both of us. Rice’ll cook pretty fast, and I might have some of that sauce left from the other day...” Reigen made to turn away, but hesitated. “I feel bad just leaving you on the floor, can I like put you on the counter or something?” Reigen hoped he wasn’t overstepping.

  Mob was on high alert again. He responded with a whisper, voice trembling even at such a low volume. “Okay...”

  Reigen extended a hand, carefully approaching the terrified boy. Mob never looked away from his hand as it neared him. He stalled for several long seconds, before stepping hesitantly onto Reigen’s hand, latching onto his thumb.

  Reigen carefully, _carefully_ raised him up, placing him gently on the countertop. Mob immediately stepped off, before backing away to what he determined to be a safe distance. His steps were a little clumsy, just enough so that Reigen noticed it. He hoped it was just the head injury, and not that he was coming down with something.

  “Okay. Let me see what I got here...” Reigen opened up one of the cupboards, pulling out a small black pot. He then went to the pantry, and was met with a huge pile of all the foods that had originally been on their proper shelves. 

  He decided he wasn’t going to bother with that right now, and dug through the mess, pulling out a bag of one of his many types of rice. Reigen began to speak in a cheerful, carefree tone, as if he was talking to an old friend, hoping to put the boy at ease.

  “Do you know how to make jasmine rice? It’s really not too hard, and it actually costs less than minute rice. It takes a little while longer to cook, but the texture is really nice, and that can make all the difference in a dish...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at like 1,400 words and was like “wait how am I gonna cut this off.” So it ended up being super long :’D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Do I use italics too much? I like making emphasis clear. It helps with readability, I think. Hopefully it’s not too annoying
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment, I love getting feedback from people, and don’t feel bad about commenting more than once, I appreciate it every time <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concussions are no fun, but at least we get to eat rice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I finished this this morning cause I’m sick and have nothing to do, but i’m only uploading now cause I don’t want to annoy people with updates that are too close together .^. Also we hit 100 kudos!! So here it is a lil bit earlier than I was planning
> 
> Enjoy if you can, I can never tell whether it’s a well written chapter or not heheh. Here’s hoping...

  Mob was having trouble listening to what Reigen was saying. On top of the  blinding headache that came and went, his double vision, and his stomach hurting due to being sick on the floor, Reigen tended to talk quite fast. By the time the boy had absorbed whatever Reigen had said first, he was already moving on to the next thing. Mob didn’t think what he was saying was too important, but he tried listening as best as he could.

  Reigen had pulled open the drawer where he kept his cloths and hand towels, and had fashioned together a little nest of fabric for Mob to rest in while they waited for the rice on the stove to cook. The nest was similar to the one he had in his little nook in the wall, but this one, being made of fresh(ish)ly laundered sheets, smelt a lot better. His own bed mostly smelt of dust, sweat and smoke, and was tattered with age.

  Mob sat curled up in the fabrics, marvelling at how soft it felt in his hands. Reigen was still talking, now with his head in the fridge. Mob looked back at him, watching him pick a few sauce bottles from the fridge. It looked like there was two Reigens, each parsing through a fridge, both grabbing a handful of sauces.

  “So... we got some nice peanut sauce, I’ve had it on salad rolls a few days ago and it was really good with that, so it might go okay with this rice... ...some teriyaki... plain old soy sauce, and... sweet and sour. Wait, this one is empty. Hm...” He paused. “I don’t know, what do you like?” Reigen asked, now holding each of the items in one (two?) hands, looking at him.

  Mob blinked. He’d only ever had whatever Reigen picked, not bothering to know the different names of each flavour. His gaze flicked from one sauce to the others, before settling on Reigen’s face. What was the right answer here? He bit his lip anxiously.

  Reigen held the sauces in front of himself, thinking. “... well, maybe we can try mixing a few together, get a little bit of everything in there. Can’t hurt to try, right?” He gave Mob a friendly smirk.

  Mob looked away. That smirk was a little too similar to someone else’s to be comforting... He didn’t want to be reminded of earlier.

  Reigen coughed awkwardly into a fist. “...or we could just stick with teriyaki. Let’s go with that.” He stuck the rest of the sauces back in the fridge, leaving the selected bottle on the counter near the rice. “Now the trick that I normally use, when cooking rice, is I add a _tiny bit_ of salt in with the water. Not too much, but just enough so it’s not bland. It really helps bring out the flavour. And _apparently_ you’re not supposed to stir it, unless you’re frying it in a wok. This is what I read online, so hopefully it’s correct. Take it with a grain of salt.”

  Reigen looked over at the pot of rice, before lifting the lid, inspecting its contents. He frowned every so slightly, before replacing the cover. He checked his watch. “You know what? I’m gonna have a smoke. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back, gimme like 5 minutes.”

  Reigen grabbed for the cigarette pack he kept on top of the microwave, finding it missing. He looked around, and Mob did the same. Mob curled in on himself as he remembered the catastrophe around them. Many objects had been knocked off the furniture and countertops, and it seemed as though the package of cigarettes had been one such item.

  Reigen shrugged, unbothered. He grabbed a cigarette from his back pocket instead and wound his way around the still-upturned furniture, making his way towards the balcony door. The glass had been broken, but it still held its shape, large cracks shielding the view of the outside. Reigen inspected it for a short moment, before sliding it open delicately, stepping outside.

  Mob stared after him. It was a mess in the apartment, messier than he’d ever seen it. _Had the other kid, the blond esper, done all this? Or had it been...?_

  No. He’d seen this once before. A few years ago, back when he was still living with his family, before they all realized what a danger Mob really was...

  He squeezed his eyes shut, headache flaring. Thinking had become a chore, it seemed. He remembered hitting his head, so maybe this was because of that, or maybe he was getting sick. Being sick could mean a death sentence for someone in his situation. He could deal with a mild head injury if he needed to.

  Still, he had to do something about the mess. Reigen somehow wasn’t mad at him, or maybe he hadn’t realized it had been Mob’s fault. He was eternally grateful for Reigen’s generosity and mercy. Or maybe it was just ignorance.

  Mob stood up shakily, and called upon his powers. Doing so caused an all-encompassing pain to drown him, like his head was on fire. He didn’t falter, though. He had to fix this. Mob grit his teeth, grabbing hold of every upturned piece of furniture at once.

  With a heave, he used all his mental might to turn them upright, the coffee table, the couch, the love seat, and the kitchen table. He willed the cracks in the walls to disappear, followed by the cracks in the floor and ceiling. The ground was surprisingly clear already, but Mob grabbed all that was left over, papers, office supplies, nails, dust, hair. He brought it all to one corner that Reigen would have to deal with later.

  Lastly, he tried to repair the glass door leading outside. Taking hold of it caused a few pieces of glass to fall out onto the floor, but they were caught by Mob’s infallible powers, bringing each piece back up into its rightful place. The fractures shrank, disappearing completely after several long, agonizing seconds. Mob let his hands drop from the air.

  He then immediately fell to his knees, clutching his head. It felt as though his head was splitting open, but he could feel it starting to subside. Nausea came in its place, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing up a second time. Mob fell forward, supporting himself on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath. It didn’t matter what he was feeling, he had fixed it, the mess was taken care of, so it was okay. He just needed a minute.

  “...Wow.” Mob heard, startled by the sudden voice that was so close to him. He lifted his head slowly, even that being almost too much for him. Mob hadn’t heard Reigen enter the apartment. Had it really been about 5 minutes? He was still trying to quell the nausea in his stomach. He’d rather avoid dry heaving, especially in this state.

  “Are you alright?” He heard Reigen say. He was looking at Mob with what looked to be genuine concern.

  Mob looked away, hunching in on himself, not appreciating being inspected so closely. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question. It wasn’t like he was dying or anything. Reigen had told him not to leave, even though he really wanted to. But he wasn’t going to disobey Reigen, not if he wanted to live.

  Reigen seemed to take the hint, clearing his throat. He tried changing the subject, saying “Thanks for cleaning up the mess, by the way. I think it’s looking better in here than it has in a long time. I’m kind of glad it got trashed in the first place, heh. Gives me a chance to clean up my act a bit. But enough of that.” Reigen finished. “I’m gonna check on the rice.” His eyes didn’t leave the esper boy for a long moment. He walked past Mob and finally tore his gaze away from him.

  Reigen lifted the lid from the pot again, grabbing a nearby fork. He turned off the heat, moving the pot onto a separate burner, one that was not heated. He fluffed the rice vigorously, using his entire arm. Mob wasn’t sure if that was the proper way to do it or not.

  He then grabbed the teriyaki sauce, pouring a generous amount straight into the pot. Mob watched him do so. He’d said it was for the both of them, but Mob wasn’t sure whether Reigen remembered that or not. He could just as easily change his mind.

  But he saw Reigen grab two bowls, one big and one small, filling them both up generously. He slid the smaller one over to Mob, and took the other for himself. “Here ya go. Dig in.” Reigen said, before grabbing the fork from earlier. “I don’t really... have any small utensils for you to use. Sorry about that.” He gave Mob an apologetic look.

  “That’s okay.” Mob was quick to assure him, grabbing the bowl with both hands. He sat down with the bowl in his lap, and wiped his hands as best as he could on the cloth he was sitting on. It didn’t do much, but he didn’t mind. He grabbed at the rice, trying his best not to get sauce on his sleeves. Mob was a little worried that he would be too nauseous to eat, but it seemed that that had passed. He took a bite. It was sweet and savoury, even if there was a bit too much sauce. Reigen didn’t have this sauce with his rice very often, usually going with soy sauce, and Mob had forgotten the taste. But now he knew the name of it: teriyaki. Mob smiled to himself. It had been a while since he’d had fresh cooked rice, not counting this morning. It was nice. Comforting.

  He saw Reigen move, and his eyes snapped up to look at him. Oh, Reigen was just leaning against the opposite counter. He held his bowl in one hand, the other holding his fork. He appeared to be lost in thought. Mob tried not to stare. He’d not seen many humans so close before, usually he was concentrating on hiding behind a shelf or table leg, at least several feet away. Mob’s stomach did a flip, thinking about earlier. He’d even been _held_ and he hadn’t been hurt. That made him feel nauseous again, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from his head injury or from residual fear.

  Mob thought for a moment, abandoning his rice in favour of concentrating. Did Reigen really not see him as a pest, or an inconvenience? He wondered if that was the case, or if he was just deluding himself. Any time now Reigen would get tired of him. But Mob silently hoped it wouldn’t be today. He almost found himself enjoying the company. He was fearing Reigen less and less.

  He knew this was a bad thing to do, to _never trust a human_. They were selfish, and merciless, and cruel. But Mob was finding it harder and harder to associate these traits with the man he was currently having rice with. He was almost... content.

  Mob’s head hurt. He almost pressed a hand to his head, but remembered at the last minute that his hand was covered in teriyaki sauce, and decided not to. He resigned to squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before returning to his meal.

  They ate their rice in a comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I sneak a salt pun in there? I may have ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued eating of rice. Not too much happens really but that’s okay bonding happens and that’s good enough right? Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo had a long day followed by some family dinner thing with people I didn’t know (they were fine, no one my age though T-T) but I wrote some, so you can have it.
> 
> Enjoy

  Reigen had to admit, he wasn’t the _best_ cook ever. But it wasn’t that hard to cook rice, and he’d had lots of practice with it. The stuff he was currently eating wasn’t too bad either. He hadn’t had jasmine rice in a while. The instant stuff was more his style, but it was always worth going the extra mile when it comes to good food, especially if you have guests. Speaking of which...

  Said guest was curled up with his food, elbow deep in his rice bowl. Most of it was gone by now, having been devoured quickly by the thin boy. He was trying to be polite, at least he had been at first, but hunger seemed to have taken priority. While Reigen was eating at a regular pace, not even halfway done, Mob looked like he’d need another bowl right away.

  This was the second time they’d eaten together, and the second time (to his knowledge) that Mob had eaten a full serving of food, at least within the last while. Reigen felt concern well up in his chest just looking at the boy. He _might’ve_ been gaining some color back, although his skin was so light in the first place it was hard to tell. His arms _might_ have been a little less boney, his sweater a little less baggy on his form. But that might have just been wishful thinking.

  Reigen stuffed another bite of rice in his mouth. He might have gone a bit overboard with the teriyaki. Luckily the salt didn’t bother him at all. And, he told himself, Mob probably needed the extra minerals. Growing boys need their minerals.

  Mob had finished with his bowl, and was sitting quietly with it in his lap. He looked as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, sticky as they were. He also looked as though he was trying really hard not to stare at Reigen. Mob glanced his way, and met his eyes for a moment, and looked away again. The boy’s hands tightened around the empty bowl.

  “You done with that?” Reigen asked him. Mob nodded, head turned away, but made no move to give up the bowl in his hands. “There’s some left in the pot, did you want any more?”

  _That_ got his attention. Mob looked up at him, eyes slightly widened. They were a little unfocused, which was alarming. “U-um... yes please.” He timidly offered up his bowl to Reigen, who took it. Mob was very careful to make sure there was no contact between their fingers. Reigen brought Mob’s bowl back over to the pot. Reigen was actually hoping to save some of this stuff for tomorrow morning, but he figured Mob probably needed it more than he did. So it wasn’t a big deal.

  He filled Mob’s bowl with slightly less than what had been in his first serving, but was still a substantial amount. Reigen thought he might want some seconds for himself, as well. It was pretty good rice.

  Reigen was reminded of Mob’s head injury when he saw Mob blink slowly at his food, and when he had trouble focusing on Reigen earlier. He was currently squinting at the bowl in his lap.

  Reigen frowned, pulling out his phone. The internet on it was _god awful_ , but he’d rather not abandon Mob to go searching for his laptop right now.

  He searched the words “concussion first aid”. Web MD was the first to show up. That site was... semi-reputable, he guessed, so he opened the website. He looked through it for a minute or so, and found that the main cures for a concussion were “rest” “rest” and “more rest”. And maybe a doctor. He wasn’t sure how a trip to the doctors would go, given the situation. Maybe it would be worth taking the day off to watch him, or... wait.

  “Oh... tomorrow’s the weekend. So I’m gonna be home all day.” Reigen said, partially to himself. He caught sight of Mob, currently chewing on his rice. He gave a sort of half-nod, not sure whether he was meant to respond or not.

  Alright. Now he had to convince the kid not to hide from him the whole time. Easy peasy. He started by taking a noticeably large breath, which made Mob look at him. Now was a good a time as any.

  “Sooo... if you have a concussion... you really need to have someone watching over you, in case of seizures or fainting.” He finished. _That was probably true, right? Shoot, he should have planned this better, done more than a minute of research..._ Mob looked tense, but nodded slightly. Good.

  Reigen cleared his throat. “Due to this, I have a proposition. Would you be okay with just... hanging out with me all weekend? While you get better, that is. I just think it would be good to keep an eye on you, in case you have some sort of... relapse.” _Is that the right word. Probably not._ “Would you be okay with sleeping on the couch? Or... near my room? Just so I can hear if anything goes wrong, I mean.” He cringed at how this was sounding. This was going terribly. No way Mob would agree to this... he tried to save it, and continued, “I’ll still be making your food, you’re much too young to be cooking all your meals...”

Mob thought for a moment, looking at his rice. He looked as though he was trying to hide his fear, and fighting back a headache at the same time, which created a very unique expression. Most of it was covered by his bangs though, so it was possible that Reigen’s brain was filling in the gaps. Wait, he was waiting on Mob’s response still.

  He waited patiently for a few long seconds. Just as he thought that maybe Mob wasn’t going to respond, he opened his mouth.

  “...okay. I can sleep on the couch.”

  Reigen fought to keep from fist pumping. He gave a relieved smile, letting out a breathy laugh. “Good, good. Now don’t worry about anything, I did my research and the internet says thinking is bad when you have a brain injury. Your job is to focus on resting, and it’ll heal on it’s own in no time.” Reigen tried to give off a confident image, but he was still terrified there could be complications. _What if his skull was fractured? What if his brain was bleeding? What if..._

  Reigen realized he was staring at Mob again. The boy was now done with his rice, and looking away, still watching Reigen out of the corner of his eye. Waiting.

  Reigen cleared his throat. “Mind if I take this?” He asked Mob gently. Mob’s head snapped back to look at him. He began to nod, before hesitating a moment, turning it into a head shake instead. Reigen took both of their bowls to the sink, rinsing them out quickly, and scrubbing them with the sponge-soap bottle combo that he had bought on a whim. It hadn’t seen much use lately, and was suction-cupped to the metal edge of the kitchen sink. That explained how it was not currently on the floor.

  Reigen took his time with it, making sure no dried sauce was stuck to the sides. He placed the two bowls (and one fork) on the drying rack. He then grabbed the smallest cloth he could find (it wasn’t really that small) and wet it in the sink with warm water, before handing it to Mob.

  Mob startled at the closeness of Reigen’s hand, but stilled when he saw exactly what he was doing. He took the offered washcloth in his hands, scrubbing both arms with the damp cloth. He didn’t have much ground to cover, being so small, so it took less than a minute for him to be done with it.

  “Well.” Reigen started, getting Mob’s attention. “ _You_ need to take it easy for a few days.” He pointed at Mob for emphasis, but this just caused him to shy away a little. Reigen dropped his hand, turning the motion into a covered cough.

  “So why don’t you just... set up on the couch, and I’ll find you something to do, unless you just feel like sleeping. How are you feeling now?”

  Mob stood, swaying slightly on the spot. “I’m okay...” he said, not quite meeting his gaze.

  “Okay as in ‘not dying’ or okay as in ‘actually okay’?” Reigen asked incredulously, one eyebrow raised.

  Mob took a step back, hands picking at the hem of his sweater. He was still refusing to meet his eyes.

  Reigen withheld a sigh of irritation. He told himself that the boy was just nervous, and probably didn’t want to trouble him, so he let it slide. “I’m gonna finish cleaning up in here. Then I’ll deal with the mess in the corner.”

  Mob nodded, picking up one of the cloths that he had been sitting on, dragging it with him to the edge of the counter. He grabbed at his waist, finding nothing. Oh, the boy’s grappling hook... he must have lost it when the metaphorical tornado passed through here.

  Not wanting the boy to fall and break his neck, Reigen decided to intervene. “You know what, I’ll just take you over there. Hop on.” He placed his hand palm-up on the counter.

  Now Mob was looking at him, albeit nervously. “Uh... um... okay...” he stuttered, taking a small step forward.  He climbed gingerly into the offered hand. Mob had left the cloth behind, in favour of keeping both his hands free. Reigen grabbed the small pile of mismatched cloths in his other hand.

  “Aaaaalright, here we go...” Mob tightened his grip as he was lifted close to Reigen, who could feel the boy’s terrified shivering through his fingers. He tried to go slow enough for Mob to feel somewhat comfortable, but not as slow as to drag this on longer than necessary. Reigen ended up at a slow walking pace, strolling over to the front of the couch. A quick glance at the tv assured him that that had been fixed along with everything else. Magic was truly incredible.

  “Here’s your stop, kid.” He said, lowering his hand to the couch cushion. Mob relinquished his hold on Reigen’s fingers, shakily stepping down onto the soft surface of the couch. He heard the boy take a few gasping breaths, blinking rapidly.

  Reigen, in an attempt to distract the distressed boy, gave him all the dishcloths he had in his hand. All 4 of them. Well, he kind of just placed them next to him, within Mob’s reach. They were a little big for him to carry all at once. Mob responded with a breathless “thanks”.

  “The remote’s over...” Reigen looked at the arm of the couch, where he normally balanced the remote, but found it missing. “...uh. Oh it’s probably with that mess in the corner over there.” Mob hunched in on himself as Reigen said this. “Hold on, I’ll get it, give me a moment here...” He walked back over to the kitchen, where the big mound of debris had been pushed by Mob earlier. Reigen pawed through it gingerly for a moment, before realizing there might still be broken glass in there. He wasn’t sure if he owned any gloves. Wouldn’t hurt to check.

  Reigen looked under the sink, finding garbage bags, some old cleaning products, but no... oh there they were, pushed against the far wall. A box of disposable gloves. Wouldn’t be a huge amount of protection, but better than nothing.

  Putting on a pair, he dug through the pile of papers, dust and other assorted household items. _There_ was the remote. He picked it up, then noticed something metallic underneath it catch the light, drawing his attention. A loose nail? Reigen picked it up, and it was followed by a long, thin cord. Part of the metal piece flaked off onto the floor, and only then did Reigen realize what it was.

  Several bent fishing hooks, all tied together into a usable grappling hook. Or at least, they had been. Now they were loosely connected, the string connecting them frayed. One of the hooks seemed to have been broken in half, the barbed side nowhere in sight.

  Reigen thought for a moment. Mob had repaired everything else, why not this? It was important to him, that much was certain. Perhaps he just forgot to fix it? Reigen somehow doubted that was the problem.

  Whatever the case, Reigen deemed it unimportant, and gathered both items in his hand. He stepped into the living room again, catching sight of Mob in the same position he was in as when Reigen had left. Standing with his back against the couch.

  “Here it is, I’ll just put it here...” he placed the old remote next to Mob, who simply watched him. He held his hands together, as if to keep from fidgeting.

  Okay, now to breach the issue of the broken grapple. Hm. Reigen cleared his throat. Unnecessarily, it seemed, as Mob was already looking at him.

  “So I found this, in the corner...” He held the contraption in both hands, offering it to the boy. “It looks like it got a little busted, uh... ...sorry about that.” At those words, part of the string gave out, and one of the two remaining fish hooks slipped away from the other, landing on the couch cushion.

  The boy showed no real reaction, other than maybe a slight tightening around his eyes. He reached for it with delicate fingers, carefully grabbing the hook and woven twine, and bent down and picked up the other fallen hook. “It’s okay.” He said simply.

  Reigen blinked. Wasn’t this thing important to him at all? “I could get you some glue, if you want to try and stick the hooks back together, although I’m not sure if I have any spare thread around...”

  The boy peered at him, and blinked in return. “I can fix it.” He deftly untied the remaining knot attached to the last hook, and as he did so the whole length of twine began to unravel. Mob helped it along, coaxing the string to unbraid with precise fingers. It appeared to have been tied in a four string braid, making it resemble a chain. As it became less and less braid-like, it was revealed that the string was not four separate strings, but one very _very_ long piece, looped back around on itself several times. Reigen’s eyebrows raised of their own accord. Apparently this thing had taken a lot of effort to make.

  The string glowed blue for a fraction of a second, before abruptly ceasing, and Mob let out a hiss, one hand now pressed to the side of his head.

 _“Are you okay?_ ” Reigen asked, a bit too forcefully. The boy flinched, startled eyes locking onto him, and took a step back. Realizing his mistake, Reigen added a quiet “sorry”, then asked again, with less force, “are you okay?” Mob responded with a slow nod.

  Reigen tried to cover his mistake and continued, saying “I don’t think you’re supposed to use magic when you have a brain injury. Maybe you should wait until you’re feeling better, and just give yourself a few nights’ rest. It’ll still be there later.”

  Mob looked at the string and the hooks, considering. He hummed skeptically, but relented after a moment. “...alright.”

  Reigen gave a halfhearted smile. “Did you want to watch tv then?” He asked. A little mindless entertainment might do them both some good.

  Mob met him with a small smile. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared for some sitting around in the next chapter. By them both. The bois deserve their rest
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mob deals with his concussion some more. Reigen tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyoo my pals. My writing pace has slowed down again for now, so no promises on when the next chapter will be.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

  Mob squinted at the remote he was leaning over. He pressed the power button, or at least what he _hoped_ was the power button. It was either that, or maybe the enter button. Or was it the mute button? His eyesight was blurring too much for him to tell. Mob had used this remote plenty of times, _why couldn’t he remember the buttons_...?

  Trying to recall anything was like wading through mental mud. He tried the other round button, the second-most likely one to be power button. After a hard press, the tv flickered, static showing for a split second before it settled into a picture. A picture that was probably not supposed to be that out of focus. The tv was a bit too loud. _Why couldn’t he focus_? He couldn’t even tell what was playing.

  “You alright there?” Mob heard from beside him, flinching away. Reigen hadn’t moved since the last time he spoke, but Mob had completely forgotten he was there.

  He leaped clumsily away from the voice, before backing himself into the corner of the couch. Reigen reached a hand out, but stopped himself, hand hovering undecidedly. A few tense seconds passed, and Mob was reminded of the situation they were both in. Reigen was just sharing his living space with him for a few days. Reigen wasn’t going to do anything. Mob was fine.

  A sudden bout of dizziness joined the headache he’d been feeling earlier. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to stave it off just a little. It didn’t accomplish much at first, but slowly his balance returned to him. He let out a held breath, then returned his gaze to Reigen, who was looking away, thinking.

  Reigen opened his mouth to say something (maybe an apology?), then shut it again. Mob waited, unsure whether the man was going to continue.

  He did, after several seconds. “You rest up, I gotta take care of some calls.” He stood, taking his phone from his pocket and heading towards his bedroom, texting as he went. Mob watched him leave, secretly glad to be alone again for the next little while, however long that ended up being. Concentrating was proving to be difficult.

  Mob could hear sound coming from the tv, but it was almost muffled, impossible to discern what was going on through audio alone. All it did was grate on his ears. He pressed a hand to the remote, finding the power button again. _Click_.

  Mob closed his eyes and let out a breath. Now that the tv was off again, it was easier to think. Mob sat for a few moments, enjoying the quiet. From the other room, he could hear Reigen talking, presumably on the phone. He couldn’t hear what was being said, and his tone didn’t give away any information.

  Mob blinked slowly, staring at the blank tv. He squinted at it. Would it hurt to just lay down and sleep for a little bit? That sounded a lot easier than trying to clear the fog smothering his thoughts.

  He closed his eyes, and laid down in his pile of fabric. Yeah, he could wake up when Reigen got back, he just needed a quick minute...

-

  “Alright. Yep, I’ll do that right away. Yep. Okay, thank you so much. Bye.”  
Reigen snapped his phone shut, with less force than he normally did. The phone call with the doctor had gone... surprisingly well, actually. He had expected the call-in doctor to be adamant about bringing ‘his twelve year old’ in for a check-up, just in case there was any evidence of lasting damage. But no, when Reigen had conveniently explained that they were ‘out of town’ for the weekend, the doctor had settled with a brief explanation of the boy’s symptoms.

  Constant supervision for at least 24 hours, regularly waking him up to ensure he can awaken normally, and allowing for lots of rest in the coming days were what was recommended to him. The doctor recommended Tylenol, if Mob was having headaches, although Reigen wasn’t sure of the dosage for someone his size, so he silently decided he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

  Reigen went back into the living room, planning on reassuring Mob, and then tackling the mound of garbage that needed to be sorted. When he entered, however, he found Mob had already dozed off, just a lump underneath the mound of cloths-turned-blankets. It was almost as if he hadn’t suffered a major head injury, peacefully laying there.

  Reigen decided he could reassure Mob about their predicament when he woke up. He probably needed the rest. As long as he was asleep, he wouldn’t need pain medication.

  Reigen glanced at the mound in the corner, and sighed. He really should take care of this now, mostly because if he’s not gonna do it now, it’ll probably never get done. He rolled his eyes, and went to grab some new gloves. The ones he was using earlier had disappeared somewhere.

  Alright. Now that he was looking at it, the pile seemed to be a lot bigger than he had originally thought. Then again, it was composed of every stray item in the main rooms of his apartment. How exactly was he supposed to sort through all of this?

  Reigen shrugged, stooped down, and dug into the items. Most of it seemed to be papers, so he began stacking them all up to sort through after. There were some dishes (a lot of dishes, actually) that had originally been either scattered around the couch area, or up on the counter beside the sink. Reigen pushed all the dishes into a group near the paper stack, vowing to do the dishes sometime in the near future.

  Lots of forks and bowls, a pot from when he’d resigned to just forego grabbing a bowl and eat straight from the pot like an animal, a spoon or two. Old beer bottles, insides reeking of stale alcohol. Reigen made a recycling pile to join the other two.

  There was a bunch of office supplies, mostly pens (Reigen was constantly running out of pens... but the evidence seemed to suggest that he wasn’t losing them, they were just hiding under the furniture). Reigen put them by the papers.

  Now most of the stuff that was left was assorted junk items, and a bunch of unpaired socks. There was his spare phone charger, he’d been looking for that. And there was his winter hat, who knew how long that had been missing for. At the bottom of the pile was a gift card for Pizza Hut. That was... an American food chain, if he wasn’t mistaken. Maybe he could order in this weekend. That could be nice. Hopefully there was still money on the card.

  Reigen rose to survey his work, hands on his hips. Well, now everything was sorted. Now he had to pick a pile and deal with that. But first... he peered over the back of the couch.

  Mob was still sleeping soundly. Hopefully that was a good thing. Reigen decided he’d try waking him up after a bit more cleaning.

  The dishes sounded like the hardest thing to do right now. He didn’t feel like washing most of the dishes in his apartment right now. So he decided on the papers. He grabbed the stack, and took it with him to the love seat, as sat with it beside him.

  It was kind of nice, just sitting and sorting through old papers, enjoying the silence. He fell into a pattern of placing papers together, in like groups. Old case files, old case files, that’s important for taxes, more old case files, some scrap paper. He kept one eye on the small figure laying on the couch not too far away, and lost himself to the sorting of old documents.

-

  Reigen placed the last clean dish on the drying rack. He’d finally caved, after finishing up with all the other parts of the mess, leaving just the dishes to be done. He tried pointedly ignoring the herd of porcelain and glass, and went to turn the tv on. But as his hand approached the remote, his eyes found Mob, still napping beside it. Would he notice if the tv was turned on? Probably not. But... for some reason Reigen didn’t feel like risking waking him up.

  He looked again at the dishes on the floor. He frowned at them.

  ... he should really just get this over with. With an exaggerated eyeroll at no one in particular, he had picked up as many as he could carry and brought them to the sink.

  And now they had all been washed. Reigen smiled at a job well done. Well... almost done. He unplugged the sink stopper, watching the soapy water drain down the pipes. He wondered how long it had been since he’d had an empty sink like this. Too long, he’d say.

  He rinsed out the sink, and thought about the pile of laundry behind his bedroom door that was starting to grow mold. He could throw them in the wash tonight, ride this cleaning spree energy for as long as it would take him. He’d set an alarm, so he could change it over to the dryer later. It would be nice to be rid of the sweaty old pile of clothes for good.

  For now though, it wasn’t too late yet. The sun was just starting to set, and there was a new movie on Netflix that he was planning on watching tonight. Maybe he’d watch that first. Then he’d do the laundry. He didn’t feel like going all the way down to the apartment’s laundry room to do that anyway. Maybe another time.

  All this cleaning was starting to wear him out, now. A movie did sound nice. Reigen settles into the couch, having grabbed the remote from where Mob was (still) laying. He turned the volume down almost all the way, and put the subtitles on. Just one movie. Then he’d check on Mob, do the laundry (but the laundry was _all the way_ downstairs...) and go to bed ( _so far away_...).

  Maybe he should have just done the laundry right away. Well, too late now, he thought. _Might as well just enjoy the movie._ The tinny sounds from the speakers and the bright lights from the screen did nothing to stop Reigen from falling asleep for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands* Okaythereyougohaveagoodday
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Hey we also hit 1000 hits! So that’s really good! Thanks everyone! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mob wakes up early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, ‘nother chapter. Hope you enjoy.

  Mob woke up early the next day. Even before he opened his eyes he could tell it was still early in the morning. It was hard to say exactly what time it was when he first woke up every day (he did sleep _in the wall_. Which meant no windows.) but hearing no birds outside was a safe bet that it was before sunrise, at least.

  But the air felt... less stuffy, than it normally was when he woke up. Less humid. Like there was a lot of open space around him.

  Mob snapped his eyes open. He found himself laying on Reigen’s couch, not in the safety of his little hidey-hole in the wall. As he had guessed, it was late at night, or early morning. Looking to the side, he saw the tv was still on, with nothing playing onscreen, and no sound coming from the old, dusty speakers. Just the quietest, electronic whine that always came from the tv when it was operation. He was silently grateful for this, as the noise may have exacerbated his headache. Actually...

  Mob searched for the discomfort that he’d become _slightly_ used to overnight. It seemed to have gone away, for now.  
So Reigen must have fallen asleep watching a movie again, as per usual. But if Mob was on this couch, that would mean... he turned his head away from the tv, towards the smaller couch.

  Reigen was snoring a few feet away, on said couch.

  Mob froze, and swallowed, slowly getting up to put some distance between him and the human.

  _Idiot_. Why did he let himself fall asleep here? _On the couch?_ That was practically suicide, giving a perfect chance for Reigen to catch him off guard.

  Mob pressed a hand to his head. _Ow_. Why was it hurting? It was getting hard to think, suddenly. Things were starting to look blurry. He stumbled. He just needed a moment... ...to sit down.

  Mob sat with his back resting against the arm of the couch, eyes on Reigen’s sleeping form. He tried not to think for a few seconds.

  ...Then he remembered that he was currently suffering from a... concussion, or something. Mob was supposed to rest. Mob was supposed to be on good terms with this human. Mob was supposed to do what he was told by Reigen, who was being awfully... _nice_. He wasn’t sure if that was the right word. Currently handicapped by his encounter with the other esper boy, he was now more vulnerable than ever.

  The boy slammed his eyes shut. Thinking up a course of action was just going to increase the pressure in his head.

  Mob peeked at the man sleeping on the opposite couch. He watched Reigen snore softly, face pressed into the cushion, before attempting to roll into a more comfortable position in his sleep. His subconscious must have given up halfway, as (after a few seconds of clumsy shuffling) now he was mostly on his side, which was apparently good enough for him. He let out a tired sigh.

  Now Reigen looked even less comfortable.

  Mob watched with anxiety in his stomach. He still wasn’t sure why Reigen was being _nice_ to him. Asking didn’t seem like a great idea either, as Reigen could react unpredictably. Maybe Reigen didn’t even have a reason, and as soon as Mob questioned his actions...

  Mob shivered, hugging himself tightly. He couldn’t risk something like that. He’d have to just be patient, and figure it out on his own.

  Mob looked away, figuring Reigen would continue sleeping for at least a little while longer. He decided on enjoying the quiet for a few more moments, before going back to his hidden door in the wall. Getting there would be easier with a clear head.

  Mob sighed. He wished that he knew what to do, in situations like this. His only direction from his parents about humans had been “don’t be seen, don’t be heard. _At all costs_.”, but it was a little late for that now. Now he was expected to... what was he expected to do? Be polite, and accept whatever Reigen told him.

  Mob’s stomach turned. What if he couldn’t do what he was asked? What if Reigen was disappointed by him? What if Reigen got _mad? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do..._

  He’d grown used to not knowing things, living on his own. Back when he was younger, him and his brother would be constantly asking questions to their parents, eager to learn about any new thing that came up. And if their mom and dad didn’t know the answer to one of their endlessly supplied questions, they would find out for themselves. They’d wait until the dead of night, sneaking over to the old bookshelf, overflowing with books old and new. They’d pour over them for hours, the pair absorbing information like two young little sponges, books about animals, textures, everything. They usually wouldn’t find the answers they were looking for, but they’d find answers to questions they hadn’t even thought to ask, like:  _what do frog eggs look like? What does a snake feel like? Why are flamingoes pink?_

  There were a select few of them that were those touch-and-feel books, that were made of different materials of varying textures. Ritsu had always enjoyed those, feeling the fluffy wool of a sheep, the soft fur of a cat, or the delicate nose of a dog.

  ...Mob enjoyed the books about animals the most. Especially the ones with big, full color pictures, where he could see the individual hairs on a cats’ face, or the scales on a lizards’ head, or the feathers on-

  Mob grimaced, holding his head. His headache was flaring up again. He gave a slightly self-depreciating smile. Trying not to think was proving to be harder than he thought it would be.

  He looked over at Reigen, who hadn’t moved during Mob’s musings. He still didn’t look very comfortable. Mob thought about going back to sleep, hopefully catching a few more hours of rest before he had to interact with Reigen again, but decided against it. He didn’t want Reigen waking up before him. That was a recipe for disaster.

  Well, he could wait. He’d gotten pretty good at wasting away the hours that he was unable to use, like when Reigen was at home, but not sleeping. That had been before they had officially met each other. Thinking back on it, that seemed like a lifetime ago. Had it really been less than three days ago...?

  Mob caught sight of his disassembled grappling hook on the opposite cushion of the couch. All the string was unraveled, placed in a neat, long stretch of lines, all set to be woven together.

  Mob frowned at the string and the bits of metal. He knew how to braid them by hand, it wasn’t too hard, but he was much more precise when he used his powers to weave them together. That didn’t seem to be an option right now, though. But it wasn’t like he had other plans.

  He had some time to kill, anyway. Mob walked over to the fish hooks, twisting the string around the two remaining hooks. The third one, the broken one, would have to be disregarded. He tied them together firmly, using many knots of different types, hoping to make it as sturdy as possible. The last thing Mob needed was for the hooks to come loose at a pivotal moment. Then he’d have to rebraid the entire string again.

  The rope, despite being looped over itself a few times, was still very, very long. Looking at how it was layed out, it seemed as though it was just about as long as the couch, lengthwise. Maybe a _bit_ shorter, but not by too much.

  Mob had a little bit of trouble starting the weaving process, (he hadn’t done precise work such as this with his hands in a little while) but got faster as he went. It wasn’t long until the birds outside started singing, followed by the sun some minutes later.

  He watched the sunlight shine through the balcony door, and as the sun rose higher and higher, the large rectangle of light on the wall dipped lower and lower over the top of one couch, and eventually was shining onto the other couch, right into the eyes of a sleeping Reigen.

  Mob was finding it harder and harder to focus, knowing that the light would wake up Reigen any minute now. He was almost done though, he only needed to weave it a few more times, before tying it off...

  Reigen inhaled deeply, beginning to stretch his stiff limbs, still laying down. One leg sticking out, the other curled in, an arm raised above his head. He held the nonsense stretch for a few seconds, then collapsed on the couch again. After a few more seconds, he began sitting up, and stretched again, relieving some of the tension in his back. He still had his eyes shut against the blinding light from the glass balcony door.

  Mob quickly tied a knot on the end of his thread, and stood, facing Reigen. _Here we go, don’t mess this up..._ Mob grimaced for a moment, before schooling his face into a neutral expression. He could do this. It wouldn’t be too bad. Reigen was nice, right? Mob had nothing to worry about.

  He wished that he could convince himself of these thoughts. And now his headache was back, at full force. He tried ignoring it. Now all he had to do was wait for Reigen to notice him over here... and go from there. Just keep up the pleasant act. Be polite. It would be fine, right?

  Just fine.

  He hoped he was right about that.

  He really, _really_ hoped he was right about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmm I’m good at making sure I write a bunch but nothing happens (even if it’s like. A whole 1,600 words). Like. Nothing happened my dudes
> 
> Hope you enjoyed


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some chit chat occurs. Among other things ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried coming back to this several times over the past few months. My brain wasn’t having it. Sorry :( 
> 
> It's a bit longer than normal as an apology?
> 
> Enjoy

  Reigen took his time waking up. He took his time stretching his sore limbs, he took his time sitting up, and opening his eyes. He squinted at the ground without really focusing on it. _Was the floor always so cleared of debris?_

  His eyes felt really dry, so he must have fallen asleep with his contacts in again. Shoot.

  He sighed, and reminded himself that he _had_ to stop doing that, because at this rate he’d go blind in less than a year. He waited a few seconds, just sitting on the couch, socked feet on the floor. The eye drops he kept in his bathroom cabinet felt like they were _miles_ away, instead of just down the hall, on the left.

  He rubbed his eyes gently, making sure that the contacts weren’t stuck to his eyes.

  It took a little coaxing, but the dry contacts released their hold on his corneas, both of which seemed to be unharmed. Every time this happened, he was always afraid that they wouldn’t come off, that they’d damage the front of his eyeballs. So far, it hasn’t happened yet, and that was good enough for him right now. He didn’t know much about the science behind eyes. Reigen dropped his hands from his face, still not really focusing on anything.

  He took in a large breath over several seconds, filling his lungs completely, and released it all in a long _whoosh_ of air. His back was sore from falling asleep on the couch again, but that was nothing compared to the discomfort radiating from his eyes.

  He might as well deal with this now, it wasn’t as if the itchiness in his eyes would go away on its own. Bracing his hands on the couch, he rose to his feet in one swift motion. Getting up so fast made him a little light-headed, and his vision started tunneling, so he paused for a moment, waiting for the feeling to disappear, leaning on the arm of the couch.

  He ran his free hand down his face absently. It was so _clean_ in here. It was probably cleaner than it’d been in, what, years? Amazing. He’d have to thank the kid again.

  What day was it again? ...Saturday. Was there anything he was planning on doing today? Getting groceries, maybe... and taking care of the magic child. Mob. Right.

  Speaking of... Reigen looked towards the tiny little door in the baseboard. It looked no worse for wear, and there was no sign that the kid might be in there. Not that there would be any sign. Maybe he could check to see if it was locked.

  But then memories from last night flooded his head, and he looked at the other couch, where Mob had been last night. There was the pile of kitchen cloths, its’ occupant nowhere in sight. The tiny shoelace/fishhook contraption was put back together, surprisingly. When had the kid had time to do that? Had he been up all night?

  Reigen’s eyes caught movement on the far end of the couch he was looking at, and he met the gaze of the child, who was staring apprehensively, pressed up against the armrest. He looked as if he was waiting for Reigen to notice him, and now that that had happened, he was now waiting for the man to make a move. Mob chewed his lip anxiously, toes curling in his makeshift shoes.

  Reigen cleared his throat of sleep, not used to having to talk so soon after waking up. He swallowed once, before taking in a breath.

  “Erm, hello.” He said with a croaky voice. It almost sounded like he was getting sick. “Have a good sleep?” _There_ , a little less croaky that time.

  Mob blinked at being addressed, pulling at one of his sleeves. “...it was fine.” He said, pausing for a moment. Then he seemed to catch himself, and added, “how was, um, your sleep?”.

  “Not too bad, actually. My eyes hurt, but that’s my own fault. I’m gonna go deal with that real quick, but first did you, uh...” How was he supposed to entertain a kid? Kids liked tv, right? “Did you want me to turn on the tv?” He asked.

  Mob waited an extra second before answering. Maybe he wanted to make sure he wasn’t interrupting. “Okay,” the kid said, peeling himself off the side of the couch. He leaned down and picked up the homemade grapple, looping it expertly several times before hooking it onto his belt. He walked a bit closer, and sat down in the middle of the farthest couch cushion.

  Reigen glanced around the living room. You’d think now that it was so clean, it would be harder to lose things. That seemed to not be the case, as the remote was nowhere in sight. He searched between the cushions, finding some change, some lint, and a peanut.

  When was the last time he had _peanuts_?

  He didn’t even _like_ peanuts that much.

  He was getting off track.

  Remote, right. He searched the coffee table next to the couch, which held some papers (neatly sorted and stacked by yours truly, thank you very much) and a lamp, which was currently off. No remote here either.

  He was distracted by a bright swirling glow, coming from something underneath the couch. The blues and purples clashed against the bright yellow of the rising sun, almost overpowering it. The object slid out from underneath the couch, and revealed itself to be the remote. As the colors faded, he saw out of the corner of his eye Mob, who now had a hand pressed to his forehead, eyebrows furrowed.

  “Hey, hey, you’re supposed to be resting, remember?” Reigen snatched the remote from the ground, before pointing it at the boy, a good natured smirk on his face. He then levelled it at the tv, jamming a thumb down on the power button. “You shouldn’t be using your energy all willy-nilly like that. But thanks, though. Saves me from looking all over the place.” He looked back at the boy-

  ...who had a rather terrified expression on his face. Reigen blinked. He didn’t expect _that_ level of fear, or fear at all. Was it something he said?

  Mob shivered, having stood up and backed away, hugging himself. He shook his head, not breaking eye contact, and even from across the room Reigen could tell that he was breathing hard. “ _I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t mean- t’to- I- I won’t use them again, I-_ “

  “Woah, woah, it’s okay.” Reigen said, cutting off the rambling apologies. He muted the tv and put the remote down, before reaching out a placating hand, hoping to show good will. “It’s alright, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I didn’t want you to push yourself just yet, you know, with the whole head injury thing.” Reigen tried for a gentle smile. “It’s alright, just breathe. I’m not mad, I swear.”

  Mob was still shaking, but seemed to be listening. He tried to control his breathing, short, stuttering breaths slowly fading into normal ones. He closed his eyes for a moment, holding his head with shaky hands. He focused on breathing.

  They both waited for a minute or so, while Mob calmed down some. Reigen bit his lip, unsure. “Did you need anything? Maybe some water, or something? ...Tea?” Tea always helped.

  Mob had his eyes scrunched closed, and Reigen wasn’t sure if he could hear him. He squinted at Reigen through the pain in his head. “Um... water, please.” He said with a small voice.

  Reigen gave a reassuring smile, using the couch as leverage as he stood up. The little thimble was beside the sink, having been washed last night in Reigen’s mad cleaning frenzy. He turned the tap on cold, and waited a few seconds for the water to reach proper temperature (it always started out as lukewarm, having sat in the pipes all night.) He tested the stream of water with a finger, and flicked it off into the sink.  He brought it back over to Mob, who accepted it with a meek “thank you”, bringing it to his lips.

  “Not too fast,” Reigen warned. “Don’t wanna upset your stomach again.”

  The boy nodded as best as he could while the thimble blocked his face, drinking slower. He didn’t stop until he drained the whole thing. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he handed the tiny glass back to Reigen, who accepted it.

  He placed it on the coffee table, and headed for the washroom. His eyes were _really_ starting to hurt, stupid contacts. A small voice reminded him that this was his fault in the first place, for falling asleep with them in. He ignored it.

-

  Mob heard Reigen shuffling around in the washroom for a few minutes, followed by the shower turning on. Okay, so now he had a few minutes to himself.

  His heart was still beating abnormally fast, and Mob places a hand over his chest, and concentrated on trying to slow it down. Each beat of his heart made his head hurt, a steady _thump-thump-thump_ against his brain.

  He wasn’t supposed to use his powers. At least until his head got better. That would be easy enough, right? He didn’t use his powers for much anyway. Usually for emergencies, or on tasks that required a bit of extra effort.

  Mob wondered why Reigen didn’t want him to use his powers. Sure, he had said that he shouldn’t push himself, but that could have been a lie. Maybe he thought they were scary, or dangerous.

  Mob ducked his head, thinking about yesterday.

  How much of a mess everything was.

  It was _possible_ that after he had passed out, the blond boy had gone on a rampage, destroying the apartment. That didn’t seem too far out of character for him.

  But then he thought about just how much damage there was, and how he’d seen this one time before, a few years ago...

-

  _Shigeo and his brother were just about done for the night, having reread a few of the books that had been left on the ground, in easy reach. It was getting to be early in the morning, but they only had a few pages left. Shigeo read them out loud to Ritsu, going mostly from memory. He made sure to not be too loud, just loud enough so Ritsu could hear him over the noise of the heater nearby. Shigeo held an orb of light in his hand, using his powers as a small portable light to cut through the dark and allow him to see the pages._

_Just then, padded feet toddled clumsily down the hallway. The boys froze, eyes trained on the corner of the living room, where the room gave way to the hardwood of the hallway. From around the corner, the human child, clad in pink pajamas, waddled through the living room, passing them by without a second thought._

_Ritsu tugged on his sleeve. “Brother, we need to hide!_ Now _!” He hissed, breaking Shigeo out of his trance. He blinked once, and the both of them sought shelter under the reclining chair. Sliding underneath, they hid under it for a moment. Their curiosity got the better of them, and they couldn’t stop themselves from peeking out from underneath it._

 _They both heard the kitchen cupboard open on squeaky hinges, and some rustling from within. The kid was probably grabbing a snack, or something. Normally she slept through the night, why was she awake_ now _?_

 _Shigeo thought for a moment._ What would his parents do? _Would they risk sprinting to the kitchen island, hoping to lock the door behind them before the kid noticed? Or would they wait here until she was gone?_

 _“Shige, what do we_ do? _"_   _Ritsu pressed, fear evident in his features. He was relying on his big brother to come up with a plan._

_Shigeo gulped, pressing a finger to his lips. Ritsu seemed to understand, nodding and keeping his mouth shut. They both turned their heads towards the kitchen, again looking out from underneath their hiding place._

_And they saw the girl, a few feet away, staring at them. The crackers fell from her hand._

_They all stopped, two terrified sets of eyes meeting one set of curious ones. The girl walked forwards on clumsy legs, much faster than the boys had anticipated for someone of her age._

_“Run!” Shigeo yelled, turning and crawling as fast as he could from underneath the furniture. Ritsu was barely an inch behind, but he felt hands grab his leg, twisting it at an odd angle, grip crushing. He scrabbled at the floor for some handhold, but found none on the hardwood surface._

_Ritsu was snatched out from underneath the chair, dangling by one leg only. He was brought inches from the girl’s face. He could hardly breathe as he was forced to meet her gaze. His leg was starting to go numb._

_Shigeo had to act now._ "HEY!” _He shouted, a few feet away. He  waved his arms frantically, trying to get her attention. And he got it._

 _The girl turned and looked at him with wide eyes, dropping Ritsu, who fell from her grasp to the floor. He tried to catch himself, but couldn’t stop himself from falling headfirst to the floor. He hit the floor head-on, and Shigeo knew that there would be stars dancing in his vision. They heard an ear-shattering_ screech _from the girl, who walked excitedly over to Shigeo. He turned to run, but the glossy pages of a book on the floor slid out from underneath him as he ran across it, sending him tumbling. She caught up with him easily, grabbing him by his middle, babbling at him._

_Shigeo struggled to breathe, gasping against her crushing grip, and tried to pry her hands off of him with tiny fingers, but he was no match._

_Switching tactics, he swung around in desperation and bit the closest finger he could find, drawing blood._

_She_ shrieked _, wailing at the pain and the sight of blood, and hurled Shigeo at the nearest wall. When his brain finally caught up with him, his head had crashed into the wall, and his vision faded to black._

 _He woke not a few minutes later, and found himself still in the living room, which looked almost_ demolished. _Every book was on the floor, pages ripped out, settling down around him like giant snowflakes. Windows were broken, and cold winter air blew in from outside. A lamp nearby had shattered, along with the overhead lights. Shigeo whipped around, catching sight of his brother, pinned between two large, tattered tomes. He rushed over,_ is that blood...?

 _“Shige...” Ritsu was crying, and a substantial amount of blood poured from a wound on his head, staining the books and the floor. “Shige, it hurts... it_ hurts _...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm not super happy with the ending but oh well.
> 
> Will I update again soon? I don't know! sorry.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I really appreciate all the support from you guys it really keeps me going!! Love you all <3


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